


III

by writeranthea



Series: Behind the Façade [3]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Corporal Punishment, Dialogue Heavy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Jealousy, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Reunions, Semi-Public Sex, Threesome - M/M/M, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-09-30 01:13:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 65,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17214257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeranthea/pseuds/writeranthea
Summary: It took Giacomo some time, but he eventually grew used to spending his days at the court of Saint-Cloud instead of Sanssouci. He could not have known that he was anything but away from trouble - despite the distance that he had travelled.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There it is, part 3! :-) Please mind the tags - don't read if those things trigger you.
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

He was writhing underneath the taller man‘s body, his face smashed into the pillow while his hips were being held upraised by the stacked pillows and the hands clutching them. The man above him was panting, his long hair hanging around his face like a courtain as he again and again fucked into the other, the sound of skin slapping against skin loud in the air between them. Giacomo moaned when the cock inside him brushed against his prostate again, making his thighs shake and his head buzz. He struggled to free his face enough from the depths of the pillow to be able to look back over his shoulder, moaning “Harder, you can go harder.”

“ _Ton souhait est ma commande_ ,” Achille purred and bend over to press a kiss onto his shoulder before he brushed his hair away from his sweaty face and snapped his hips forward with newly-found vigor, breaking out into a grin at the low whine that it teared from Giacomo, “ _Oddio_ _sì_ , _come quello_ ,” the Italian babbled, unaware of having slipped back into his mothertongue, “oh -”

Life in France was as good as it could have been for Giacomo. While he was nowhere near a washout regarding geography, he had not imagined to find a place like Saint-Cloud mere miles away from Paris. The château that had been given to Philippe‘s family during the times of Louis XIV - one of Philippe‘s ancestors had been the notorious lover of the king‘s brother for over thirty years - as an estate, stood on an increased level over the Seine and its gardens ended where the river began. It was surrounded by green on all four sides. Giacomo‘s physical wounds had healed completely a few days after he, Philippe and Achille arrived and while his body returned back to its usual state, his mind did not. He was drinking and gambling, more so than he normally did, and made his first experience with various powders.

Achille smacked him once and Giacomo pushed his hips back to met with the French‘s movement. He was more easy to get into the sheets, too, using fucking or being fucked by random men he would meet in the salon or gardens as a ventile. “Harder,” he breathed and whined, hands clutching at the bedspread and shaking his hips slightly to urge Achille on, who tsked and smacked him again with a breath heavy from exertion, “You most definitely are not easy to keep up with.”

Giacomo used other to erase the touches Friedrich had left on him with the touches of others, some of which he did not even remember the name of. The meaningless sex and the pain were the only things, except for the powders, that could take his mind off for at least some time.

The French finished first, shooting his release into Giacomo, who followed soon after and breathed heavily when Achille pulled out, roughly wiping at the crease of his ass with a piece of clothing. “That... was amaz - AH!” Giacomo squealed and laughed when the pillowes were pulled out from underneath him and he was turned over onto his back, Achille hovering above him in a second to attack his lips. The French dominated him by simply pushing his tongue into his mouth without asking for entry, rasping into the kiss, “I will see you later tonight?”

“If you wish to...” Giacomo grinned. “You can bet on that.” He was kissed again, biting his lower lip and making a disappointed sound when Achille pulled away. “Do you really have to leave?” Giacomo watched his friends re-dress and fix his hair as good as he could, everyone with the slightest bit of experience would be easily able to connect the dots between the hair, the blush and the big grin the French carried on his face. “Non, do not look at me like that. You are insatiable, Giacomo,” Achille chuckled and bend down to kiss him again. “You know very well that I cannot stay without making Philippe suspicious.” Giacomo rolled his eyes and flopped back down with a dramatically sigh, “Alright, hurry off then,” making Achille arch a playful eyebrow at him with a smirk before he left.

Giacomo sobered from his good mood as soon as he was alone again, his smile slowly disappearing as he shuffled under the ruffled covers and pulled them close around him to cover his nakedness. He had slept with Achille a couple of times in the month he had been staying in Saint-Cloud, and the high summer since had passed into late and finally into early autumn. Without Philippe knowing, or so they hoped, as Achille had enlightened him about his feeling the first night Giacomo had dropped to his knees in front of his. They both knew it was meaningless sex, though.

But no matter how hard he tried, how often he had sex, he never had been able to keep Friedrich from creeping back into his mind every time he was alone. He could not get him out of his head and it would have been a straight lie if Giacomo would have stated that he did not miss him, although missing Friedrich was to no avail. Not only because they were in different countires.

He hurried to rush into the adjoined bathroom of his privat chambers, just barely making it to the basin before he heaved up the few contents his stomach contained. _“Are you hungry, Liebling?”_ Giacomo was not okay, and he knew it. He had not healed and he feared that he would never be able to, that the... experience with Friedrich destroyed his old being, hurt him to the point of no return. Friedrich had inprinted himself on Giacomo in the most destructive way one could do.

“Giacomo, _mon ange_ , finally! How happy I am that you came,” Philippe greeted him with a kiss to his cheek when he closed the door to one of the smaller, more exclusive salon of the château behind him. He offered a quick smile, “I apologize for being late, Philippe, I got caught up -” “Do not apologize, you are here now.”

The Italian could feel Achille‘s eyes on him, the frenchman being one of the dozen men that had been invited for... their game that evening. He was sure that he had slept with four of them, excluding Achille, but he could only remember the tall and ginger-haired man‘s name out of thin air - Maximilien Beaumont, a french nobleman in his early thirties. He had been the first male Giacomo had taken turn on, having fucked him on the canapé after a rather boring game of cards, and Maximilien looked like he had walked straight out of a Botticelli painting with long red curls, pale and freckled skin and a constant look of arrogance on his face that Giacomo had only been able to wipe away by an especially hard thrust against his prostate.

He sat down in the only free chair between Maximilien and a man he did neither know nor had fucked, giving a thankful nod when he was passed a glass filled with sparkling wine, he knew that it was spiked without having to ask.

“Tell me, _mon ange_ ,” Philippe asked while he changed position in his chair, swirling the content of his glass with one hand, “are you enjoying your stay? Is everything in my home to your liking?” Giacomo could see that his blue eyes were clouded, the drugs probably already taking effect on him. Well, he had been late, after all. “Oh I am enjoying it very much, and you house is very lovely, Philippe,” Giacomo answered and grinned at him from over the rim of his glass. “I am glad to hear that,” both men locked eyes as they drank, very well aware that they could be at each other‘s mouth soon. The powder they consumed was the same that had been used at Versailles during the time of Louis XIV, or rather his younger brother and lover had used - it was notorious not only in France, the Austrians were rather fond of it, too. While that certain powder did not turn its user into addicts, it was not the only one Giacomo used. He had powders for sleeping, against nightmares - and those slowly but steadily took their tolls by turning down appetite and the ability to go without them.

Giacomo had not been lying by stating that he enjoyed his stay, as Saint-Cloud seemed like heaven in the situation he was in. After Friedrich.

No one expected anything from him. He could sleep for how long he wanted to, could eat whenever he wanted to and had no court-protocol affairs other than balls and games of cards to attend. Giacomo could go on strolls through the garden, the park and even the nearby forest if he desired to, taking with him whoever he wanted and Philippe had, all so generously, insisted on paying for everything the Italian would like to have. Books, clothes, jewelry, powders... Giacomo could have it all. He could not know that it was Philippe‘s way of calming his bad conscience, to make the thoughts that he was to blame about what happened to Giacomo more bearable.

He knew his face must have been bright red when he felt the powder‘s effect taking over him, and not just him - a pair across the table had started to make out, obscene wet noises that did nothing to decrease his pulse and the already-there throbbing in his pants. “Giacomo,” a voice was in his ear, followed by a gentle hand in his hair. Maximilien. “Can I have you?” Giacomo was taken aback at first, clearly not having expected the question from the younger but he agreed with a nod of his head, and not only because he was intoxicated. His pupils blew wide and he let out a needy little whimper when Maximilien leaned in and took hold of his throat with one hand to kiss him. His hand, the way it felt around Giacomo‘s neck was different from Friedrich‘s the last time he had felt it. It still reminded him of Friedrich, but he tried to push that thought back as far as he could.

Friedrich was not here.

Giacomo gasped when Maximilien‘s hand suddenly rested on his cock to massage it through the fabric of his trousers, “Come with me.” The frenchman stood and pulled Giacomo with him into one of the adjoined rooms that held nothing but a bed, pressing him against the wall to kiss him again. Giacomo had only noticed that Philippe had followed them when there were suddenly two pairs of hands working on getting him undressed, the Italian only able to whimper when he was turned around and lead to the bed. “Hands and knees,” Maximilien rasped and a shudder went through Giacomo as he obeyed, his body practically burning up from intoxication and lust. “Finally,” he could hear Philippe purr, the French patting one of his cheeks almost admiringly, “I cannot believe than I finally get to see you like this, _mon ange_. I will go first.” Maximilien did not argue and moved to the other side of the bed to take Giacomo‘s face into his hands, tongues playing while Philippe poured some oil into the crease of Giacomo‘s ass to prepare him.

The Italian whined when the first finger entered him and arched his back out of habit, causing Philippe to chuckle and add the second finger soon after, scissoring him open, “Slut.” Giacomo pulled away from Maximilien‘s mouth to look over his shoulder and at Philippe, his heart racing... He knew? “Do not worry, _mignonette_ , I like it,” Philippe accompanied his words with a spank that was rather a love tap, his laugh turning into a moan when he worked an oiled hand over his cock before he aligned himself with Giacomo.

He pushed in and Giacomo‘s arms could keep him upright, he would have hit the mattress face first if it had not been for Maximilien holding his chin while he was wanking himself with the other. Philippe quickly fell into fast and hard rhythm, both hands lovingly running up and down the blond‘s sides, fingers brushing against his nipples every now and then.

Threesomes were not new to Giacomo, but he did not believe to have experienced one as intense and mind blowing like this one. “Would you be aversed to suck -” Maximilien did not even get to finish asking before Giacomo wrapped his lips around the head of his cock, sucking once before taking him in deeper. The ginger-haired man moaned and burried his hands in Giacomo‘s hair, thrusting his cock deeper into the inviting warmth. “ _Mon dieu_ , where did you get so good at this,” he moaned and Giacomo pulled off to lick a stripe at its underside, purring his answer, “Practise.” Philippe behind him growled and snapped his hips forward, slapping his ass at the same time, “Slut. But I still love you, _mignonette_.”

While Maximilien judged his choking to be out of reflex, Giacomo did so because he had not expected his friend to confess his feelings at such a time. But love? No, he could not do it again... He was glad when Philippe finished rather quickly, pulling out with a groan to clean himself with a prepared cloth and Maximilien jumped up and practically skipped to take the other‘s place.

“ _Mon ange_ ,” Philippe whispered, urging Giacomo to look up when Maximilien entered him with one swift movement. The blond obeyed, how else could it be, and looked up with tear-filled eyes and an open-hanging mouth, being thrust forward with every smack of Maximilien‘s hips against his ass. Philippe took his face into both hands and kissed him slowly, sensual, pushing his tongue into Giacomo‘s mouth after gently asking for entrance. “How wonderful you are,” he whispered, the praise having its wished effect when Giacomo clenched and whined, “Philippe-”

He came while he was being kissed and Maximilien soon did it him alike, smacking his cheeks alternatingly as he rode his own orgasm out. “Do not believe that you will ever be on top of me again,” the younger frenchman chuckled as he pulled and replaced his cock with two of his fingers, unable to resist one last penetration, scissoring Giacomo who cooed and pushed his hips back, “this is obviously where you belong,” Maximilien‘s voice was rough, “taking it like a good boy.”

 _“How am I supposed to know,” Achille barked, “all it did to me was allowing me to last twice as long and to fuck twice as many in half the time.”_ Giacomo clenched around the digits, under sober circumstances he would have been fucked out of his brain, quite literally, and it was the powder that kept him going, that held him on his knees and hands. The powder and the desperate wish to be able to get Friedrich off his mind for at least some time.

“Go and enjoy yourself somewhere else,” Philippe told Maximilien with an edge in voice who left the room without backtalk and bothering to put on any clothes. Giacomo climbed off the bed with unsteady legs and a sticky trail running down the inside of his thigh as he squatted down to search his discarded clothes for something. “ _Mignonette_?” Although intoxicated himself, Philippe got a churning feeling in his stomach when he could do but watch how Giacomo opened a small box with shaking fingers, dumped almost half its content into his palm and snorted it before throwing his head back to allow it to stay in. He needed to forget.

“Make me forget,” Giacomo whispered repeatedly, “please make me forget,” and closed the gap between him and Philippe to kiss him, his hands cupping the French‘s face. “Giacomo -” “Please,” came a plea that sounded close to tears and Philippe swallowed hard. “What do you wish me to do, _mignonette_?” The blue of Giacomo‘s eyes was bleary and dull when he looked up, “Hurt me, please.” “Giacomo, no -” The French swallowed hard, but his cock stirred at the imagination. Oh how he wished to have been sober in that moment. “Please,” was whispered into his ear and Philippe told himself that he was only doing as his friend wished. Giacomo let out a high and squeaked laugh that sounded... wrong in a way the French would only understand later when he sat down on the bed and placed the other over his lap.

Philippe was spanking him rather lightly, too light for Giacomo‘s liking. “Come on,” he whined, wriggling his hips, “please.” His friend reluctantly obeyed and he bit his bottom lip when Philippe started to put his shoulder into the smack, quickly coloring his backside bright red and hot to the touch. The buzzing waves of the pain and the drugs in his system went to Giacomo‘s head fast, overwhelming him to the point of tears. He had not even realized that he had began to cry if it had not been for Philippe to hoist him up into a sitting position onto his lap. Philippe wrapped his arms around his shaking body and pressed his lips against Giacomo‘s sweaty temple, “You are far from alright and do not lie to me about it, do not."

A sob escaped the blond‘s mouth, and he held onto the back of Philippe‘s blouse like a lifeline, “Please, make me forget. I - I cannot seem to forget him, Philippe, _please_ , I beg you -” “Oh,” the French tightened the embrace he had on him, a tear running down his own cheek. It was his fault, he had been stupid enough to believe that Giacomo would be just able to leave it all behind. Giacomo had all but left it behind, no, Philippe feared that he was even worse than a month prior.

“Giacomo, _mignonette_... there is something we have to talk about, but I shall believe that we should do so tomorrow.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

When Giacomo woke up late the next morning, it was not only his head that was throbbing in pain. The events of the prior day had left their marks on him, especially in his nether regions, and Giacomo winced when he put a hand behind him to gently grope at the area between his cheeks. He would probably have to turn down the invitation for tonight.

Giacomo groaned and rolled out of the bed, limping into the bathroom to clean the stickiness from between his cheeks and the insides of his thighs. He felt so incredibly used but other than last night it made him feel sick rather than turned on, and Giacomo swallowed to push the bile back down as he soaked the cloth in warm water of the bason and started to clean himself. Aversing his eyes away from the mirror, he clenched his jaw when the cloth uncomfortably scraped at the soreness of his now puckered hole.

_“Whore.”_

He threw the cloth back into the basin so forcefully the water splashed over its edge and shifted his weight over to lean on his hands that were now holding onto said edge, head hanging low as his shoulders started to shake. Giacomo feared that his reflection would laugh and point at him if he would look into the mirror. Giacomo Casanova, renewed Italian adventurer and author... what has he turned into could be descriped as nothing more than a poor excuse of his former self. Wiping at his nose with the back of his hand, his eyes wandering over to the snuffbox and while he knew very well that it was probably anything but right he yet lifted its lit, dumped a small heap of the powder into his palm and leaned his head back into his neck as he snorted it at once.

The first contact of the powder with the inside of his nose always burned and brought tears into his eyes, making him cough. Giacomo cleared his throat and rubbed at the bridge of his nose until the burning had ebbed down, blinking hard a couple of times before he closed the box and left the bathroom, passing the breakfast table that had been set-up with a mere snarl - he did not remember exactly if he had eaten after yesterday‘s breakfast, but he felt no appetite whatsoever.

Every fiber of his body was tired. Giacomo had been laying awake for the good part of the night after Philippe had accompanied him to his rooms, the race his heart had been participating in too wild to allow him to sleep no matter how he had longed for it.

He sat down on the canapé with a weary and drawn-out sigh, slipping his feet into the legs of his trousers and pulling them up to the middle of his thighs, putting on a blouse before he stood to fasten the britches around his waist. They were unusally lose, and he would have to use a belt it he slimmed down, a fact which he had not even noticed. Now that he summer had truly passed and nature was beginning to show how tired it was, Giacomo found himself wondering if, maybe, he and Friedrich just had not been destined to last beyond summer. He huffed humorlessly, “ _You... want me? Me, Giacomo Casanova, a mere Italian nobleman?” “You are much more than a mere Italian nobleman, Giacomo. But other that that you got it quite right.”,_ only he could have been stupid enough to actually believe it.

How did his life end up like this? Giacomo could not explain it, and he though he could feel his throat closing up and his breath hitching, a wave of panic washing over him. What he was suddenly so scared about he did not know, but it felt real and threatingly big. Fear about what? What did he have to fear here, at Saint-Cloud? Giacomo‘s mind was trying to convince him about the needlessness but it did nothing to calm him down, and he pulled out another box to snort another pinch, waiting for the effect to kick him with his eyes closed. Only then he could muster the strenght, both mentally and physically, to leave the privacy of his rooms.

“He has gotten worse, I know it.” “Huh,” Achille asked in confusion, looking up from his plate and putting another grape into his mouth. Philippe watched the wine swirl in his glass, “Giacomo.” The blond cleared his throat and wiped at the corners of his mouth with a napkin, “Do you think so?” Philippe tsked, “I know it. And I fear that he is consuming to much, too. He begged me to make him forget,” he shuddered at the memory, “he is most definitely worse.” Achille only nodded slowly, now that he thought of it Giacomo really had changed and not only by growing increasingly more pale and thin. He had not payed it a second thought.” “I do not want to know what that... Friedrich did to him,” Achille answered after a moment of silence.

“I still wish that I could strangle him with my bare hands,” Philippe snarled and Achille smirked, he knew that his cousin would like nothing more than to let his words be followed by actions. “There will be time for revenge, cousin.”

A manservant entered the rom after knocking once, dutifully coming to stand in front of Philippe with a slightly bowed posture. “Monsieur Casanova has left his chamber, Sire, but his breakfast was left untouched as were his lunch and dinner yesterday, Sire.” Achille looked away from the servant over to Philippe who looked like he was about to burst from what he had heard.

“Thank you,” Philippe managed to press out, “you can return to your service.” The manservant bowed and turned to leave and as soon as the two noblemen were alone again, Philippe forcefully threw the napkin onto the table and pushed the chair back with a snarl, walking over towards the windows with his fists clenched at his sides. Achille could see his knuckles standing out at a stark white even from the distance. “Have you told him yet?” He stood too but did not close in on Philippe, inspecting the carpet. “No, but I will do so today,” Philippe said with a distant voice, still looking out of the window when Achille came to stand at his side after all.

“You are blaming yourself.” “As I should. It is my fault.” “Philippe -” “Do not try to convince me otherwise, I had to persuade you into acquiring that damned mixture. I am solely to blame.” “You really want to confess it to him?” “He deserves to know,” Philippe whispered and put his hands into the pockets of his jacket, and Achille swore that he could hear the crackle of paper. “Yes, that he does.” “He knows that I love him.” Achille‘s mouth turned dry with a peng at his words, but Philippe spoke again before he had the chance to. “I... told him yesterday while I fucked him, together with Beamont.”

The blond was sure that his face stood in a bright red and he was biting at the insides of his cheeks to keep his snarky comment about ‘going first‘ in. “How are you planning to tell him,” he asked instead, turning his gaze to look at the profile of his cousin. “I will go looking for him and invite him for a walk. I would not like to have any... unwanted listeners.” _It_ _could_ _cost_ _me_ _my_ _head_ , it stood in the air between them. They both knew it, there was no need to speak it out.

Philippe sighed and turned on his heels, slowly making his way over to the door. “I will see you later, cousin.”

Giacomo forced himself to smile when he walked past a group of courtiers, who greeted him equally wordlessly, and towards the part of the château the salons could be found. While he knew that there was no possibility of him being able to remove himself from court life completely, even if his throbbing head and genereal weariness would have liked him to do so. It was nowhere near chilly in the château, but Giacomo still shivered and pulled the jacket around his tighter.

He tried to slip into the salon as unobtrusively as he could and chose to sit on one of the benches in front of the large windows, the autumn sun warming his back when he opened the book he had brought with him. Giacomo had not touched his diary since the 28th of July to be precise and he could not remember what he had last written about. Probably about their ride in the forest... he swallowed and blinked hard, forcing himself to start reading despite feeling rather observed - “ _Bonjour_ , gorgeous.” Flinching and barely managing a smile, Giacomo looked up, “Maximilien, I had not expected to find you here.” The ginger-haired frenchman had legerely seated himself next to him, his legs spread widely while his hands played with the silver handle of his cane. “And I had not expected to find you sitting down.”

Giacomo‘s tongue darted out to wet his lips, “Why should I not be able to? You were... not the hardest fuck I ever had.” Maximilien‘s eyebrows shot up and he threw his head back to laugh openly, sliding closer on the bench so his and Giacomo‘s thighs were pressed against each other. “I was not?” “You were far from it,” Giacomo managed in a somewhat steady voice, blood rushing in his ears. What was he doing? “Then I shall try to... impress you tonight, gorgeous. What do you say?” “I -” “I will split you open so wide that you will not be sitting down for a good few days.” The blond‘s face lit up and he pulled his leg back, “Maximilien what -” “It is a promise, gorgeous, you will see. I will show you what I can do,” the frenchman had whispered the last part against his cheek, kissing it before he stood and staggered off, looking at him from over his shoulder with eyes that probably would undress Giacomo if they could.

_“Whore.”_

Giacomo clutched at the book in his lap and stared straight head. He missed the mood of Sanssouci‘s court where everything just seemed to go lighter. He missed Friedrich who had always stepped in when someone threw unwanted flirtations at him. He... missed Friedrich. Giacomo‘s eyes did not break from the point they were locked to when he reached for the box in his pocket, but his wrist was grabbed before he could retrieve it. “Giacomo,” Philippe‘s voice as low and soft as he looked down at the blond, mouth pressed into a think line and his eyes were laced with... something Giacomo could not deduce. “I told you that I wish to talk to you, _mignonette_ , did I not? Come, let us walk for a bit.”

Giacomo followed Philippe out of the salon without arguing, holding the book to his chest and watching the bouncing curls in front of him as they walked. He honestly had forgotten that Philippe had mentioned it yesterday, and he did not know what the French could want to talk about. The sex? Probably not, what could a threesome be to a man like Philippe. The powders? Unlikely, everyone was doing them. His confession? Most likely, and he prospect of having to destroy the man‘s hope of him loving him back and possibly destroying their friendship on the way did not make him feel any better. “Where are we going,” Giacomo asked, even though they had been walking for just a few minutes. Philippe only continued to make his way down the grande escalier, though, and closed in on a side entrance door with long strides. “Philippe!” “Please,” the frenchman opened one wing of the door and held it open and Giacomo stopped in his tracks at the pleading but serious look on his face, “come.”

They were then walking side by side down towards the river, into the parts of the garden that Philippe knew were not frequently visited and especially not around this time of year. Giacomo only grew more confused the farther they walked, why could he not just start talking to him now? When they finally came to a halt, Giacomo‘s eyebrows narrowed when he turned around and saw that they must have reached the very end of the garden, the river a few meters away. “Philippe, what is the meaning of this?”

Philippe‘s shoulders slumped and his head tipped over as if someone had just taken away his composure, “Giacomo I,” he let out a loaded breath, “it was me.” Giacomo‘s brows narrowed, “What were you? I... do not understand.” He only watched when the French squeezed his eyes shut, and his mouth fell open all so slightly when Philippe‘s eyes were tear-filled as he looked up again. “I slipped him the drug in a glass of Champagne.” As if the words had hit him against his chest Giacomo took two steps back, the book he had been holding falling to the ground. “What,” he breathed, even though he had understand. “It was me, it had been my idea to drug hi -” The frenchman‘s head got only moved slightly when Giacomo hit his cheek with far less strenght Philippe had expected him to use. “ _Mignonette_...” He reached out towards the blond who was staring at him with wide eyes and a heaving chest, but Giacomo eluded his hand by taking another step back.

“Do not touch me,” Giacomo snarled, his body shaking as he wrapped his arms around himself and turned away to let his back face Philippe. He could not believe it, Philippe... not Philippe too... The first tear escaped from the frenchman‘s eye, “At least hear me out -” “Hear you out?” Giacomo yelled and whirled back around, pointing at Philippe with his eyes filling, “Hear you out? For what?” “Because it was not supposed to turn out that way,” Philippe yelled back, stepping forward and taking the other by the shoulders, shaking him. “You poisoned him -” Giacomo was shaken again, but the French swallowed and removed his hands when he saw how Giacomo had flinched at his action.

“It was no poison, Giacomo. Achille and I, we - we thought that it was the same solution we take. In the evenings.” Giacomo stared at Philippe, shaking his head as tears rolled down his cheeks. He did not understand - “It must have been adulterated with another powder that... caused Friedrich to...” “No,” the blond was breathing heavily, holding a hand to his mouth, “please, Philippe, tell me this is not the truth.”

Giacomo could not believe it, what he had heard in the span of a mere minute had demolished everything he had thought ot be true.

“I am so sorry Giacomo.” Philippe was looking at him, the last of his composure gone since he was openly crying, even if it was silently. “I... could understand if you wish to leave Saint-Cloud, I know that it is my fault and I,” his breath hitched, “do not know if I can ever show you enough just how sorry I am.” He had not expeced Giacomo to close in and wrap his arms around his upper body to bury his face in his chest. Philippe looked down at him in utter disbelief before he too closed his arms around Giacomo, leaning his cheek against the other‘s head, “I am so, so sorry mignonette. I never wanted this to happen.” The blond was sobbing, “Friedrich, he -” “He had no choice,” Philippe cut him off, pulling back to search the pocket of his coat, “he was intoxicated.” “No,” Giacomo whispered, shaking his head so forcefully it send his hair flying, “I am sure that he meant it, the words he said -”

“Giacomo.”

He looked back over at Philippe to see him holding out a letter. It took Giacomo no longer than a second to recognize the seal. “It is addressed to you, _mignonette_.” He was sure that his heart was ready to break out of his chest when he took what was offered to him with one shaking hand, looking at it with wide eyes - he, too, would recognize that handwriting out of a million. Friedrich. “When did you get this,” Giacomo breathed, eyes moving to look at Philippe again. The French offered him a shy smile, “It came tonight, with a messenger from Potsdam.”

~

Friedrich could often be found wandering aimlessly through the corridors of his palace, his Sanssouci that had shifted from his freedom to his personal prison, with his head hanging low and hands locked in the small of his back. He would wander around like this for hours, if he had no duties to fullfill, but even if he was sitting in an audience or a meeting his mind would always be occupied by the Italian. No matter how deep he would throw himself into work or his favorite books and even the musical pieces he loved, he always ended up thinking about Giacomo. Giacomo, his Giacomo... that was no longer his. Oh how he wished to see him again, Friedrich was so scared of forgetting anything regarding his favorite blond.

The way Giacomo had laughed, the way his eyelashes had fluttered in his sleep. The way his fingers had felt when they had been interlocked with his. The way Giacomo‘s eyes had sparkled when he had looked at Friedrich... Friedrich spend hours, sometimes a whole night, lost in his thoughts and staring out of the window.

Wilhelm, his valet, had been the first to notice that his meals were more and more often left untouched, but he did not know how to appeal it to the king. He knew that he must really love Monsieur Casanova.

“Are there any news on him?” Friedrich had asked one evening while he and Wilhelm were standing in front of one large window, eyes firmly locked to a spot on the outside. “No, Sire, none since his arrival at Saint-Cloud.” “At least I know that he is safe.” Wilhelm had not been able to catch the words Friedrich had murmured, “I am sorry Sire, what did you say?” “Nothing, nothing, you may leave.” Friedrich had felt his face pull into a grimace on its own accord when Wilhelm deliberately ignored his order.

“Wilhelm -” “If you cannot forget him, Sire, you should write him. If he does not already know he will know by then. Goodnight, Sire.” Wilhelm had left him with those words and Friedrich had watched him go. He had known his valet had spoken the truth, a letter was what Giacomo deserved. It was the least thing he could to for the man he loved. But his good intentions of writing as soon as he would get out of bed the next morning had been gone by the time. What could he even write? Friedrich had never been good at expressing himself and what he was feeling for Giacomo was... too much, a too big and confusing of a mixture of love, grief and utter regret. He longed to have Giacomo back with him, he longed so with every fiber of his body, with every beat ot his heard and there was no thought as curel as maybe having to spend the rest of his life without him.

That thought scared him more than anything, he rather would chose to get burried in the Garrison Church and next to his father, and the distance that layed between him and Giacomo only made it worse. He was constantly worried about the other, what he could be doing at random times of the day and he guessed that Giacomo would most likely travel to Italy before winter would set in. Giacomo‘s letter and the small, dried-up Arbutus flower were small sources of comfort, but the only ones Friedrich had left. Seeing his handwriting, touching what he had touched... Friedrich would still smell the paper even though it had long lost the faintest of the Italian‘s smell.

Friedrich had started to feel like he was fading into... something a couple of weeks after Giacomo had left him, he would eat and sleep even less while drinking a glass or two more before bed. The days seemed to drag into endlessness but the nights were even longer, he was hyper aware of the empty space beside him. He missed having Giacomo next to him, to be able to hear him breath softly in his sleep. He sometimes thought that he could almost feel his shoulder touching Giacomo‘s when they had been lying next to each other in the grass and gazing at the stars. Friedrich would have been lying if he would have said that he did not miss the sex, too, the way Giacomo‘s mouth had felt around his cock or the way the blond would throw his head back in pleasure and moan when Friedrich would the spot inside of him but he would chose to stay abstinent for the rest of his forsaken life if Giacomo would just return to him, if he could just see him one more time.

He genuinly missed Giacomo as a part of himself, a part that was gone and left a gaping hole in his side. He did not know how he could continue existing in that way. His men also had no luck in finding the ones who poisoned him, the fact that it happened at a masquerade ball made their investigation everything but easier but the had of security still reassured him at every opportunity they met. Friedrich did not care, what satisfaction should he get from punishing them if it would not bring Giacomo back.

Wilhelm decided to step in when he had tried to get Friedrich to come out of his library for close to three hourse. The king had entrenched himself in it earlier that day after a meeting with the austrian ambassador had not gone well, the Austrian had refused to accept the drink he had been offered. “Sire, it is only logical for you to come out. You need to eat and rest, Sire,” the valet tried, cheek and palm leaned against the gilded wood of the door, he could hear Friedrich‘s labored and weary breathing. The king must have been pacing up and down the room since he had slammed the door shut behind him. “Sire!” “I cannot, I cannot,” Friedrich repeated, he was standing closer to the door as Wilhelm could hear him breathe much louder and his concern grew at how labored the intakes of air sounded.

“Sire, open the door.” No answer. “If you do not open the door Sire I will have to open it myself. It is my duty to care for your well-being.” “You do not understand,” the king rasped, banging his fist against the wall, “no one... understands.” “Sire -” Friedrich hit the wall again and Wilhelm could only listen when he took a few steps back, crashing into a globe and a bookcase. The valet cursed under his breath and used the emergency key to open the door, gasping when his eyes landed on his king. Friedrich was pale and shaking, his forehead glistering with sweat as he tried and failed to regain balance. “Sire,” Wilhelm hurried to get to his side, aiding him back onto his feet by offering his arm as support. “You are too weak, Sire. Do not believe that I do not know how little you are eating.”

Friedrich did not argue and simply allowed his valet to lead him to his private rooms, thankful for the lateness of the hour which left the palace only sparsely occupied. “Eat, Sire,” a plate of baked treats was placed in front of him and he reluctantly reached for one, only so much as nibbling on it while Wilhelm moved around to pour him something to drink. “You cannot continue like this, Sire, the country needs you.” “Trust me, it will run just as good with my nephew on the throne,” Friedrich snarled and roughly shoved the plate away from him. “But I cannot function without him.” He knew he must give a sight of pity with his shoulders slack, his hair messed up and creased of sadness on his face but he could not care less about Wilhelm seeing him like this. His valet had seen worse. “Write him, Sire.” Friedrich snarled without any real bite behind it, “I would if I could.” “If you would apologize my bluntness, Sire, but what is stopping you?”

He looked up to see Wilhelm holding a piece of paper and a pen, which he too put down on the table in front of Friedrich. “Do you know what you would tell him if Monsieur Casanova was here at this moment, Sire? If he would be coming in through that,” he gestured with his head, “door?” Friedrich eyes moved from his valet to the writing materials, nodding once. “Then write just than, Sire, write down what you would tell him in person.” A small shudder went through Friedrich before he picked up the pen, unscrewed it and dunked it into the inkpot. “Thank you, Wilhelm.”

The valet left him to be alone and Friedrich sat the nib down onto the paper, hesitating momentaritly before he started writing, he did not care that his words would most likely sound pathetic and sappy. Giacomo deserved to know and even if he would burn the letter afterwards and curse his name, Friedrich could at least continue his life with the assurance that he knew.

_I thought about starting with an apology, but I would be writing until the last of my paper would be used. I am very much aware that there can never be a proper apology for what I did to you, Giacomo, for the pain that I caused you. My heart was and still is broken by my actions and the light of my life having departed with you to France. I do not expect the smallest of things from you, not even that you are still reading my letter, as it is merely me writing you that I will continue to love you until my lungs draw in their last intake of breath, until my heart falls still forever. I love you, Giacomo, but I was too scared to admit it to myself, to afraid of letting you close to me when in reality you should have worried about me getting too close to you. I pushed you away so selfishly and unrightfully and hurt you in a way you never deserved to be hurt. My thoughts often go back to the hours we spend in the forest, to how peaceful it was and how utterly right and wonderful it had felt to have you by my side, so close I could feel the love radiating from you. But you, Giacomo, you deserve better. You deserve to be cherished and loved and appreciated and carried on hands like no other without being scared of being pushed away. I love you with the very core of my existence, Giacomo Girolamo Casanova, and I shall not stop doing so in this life. I love you and I am hoping that you are living good and healthy in Saint-Cloud and that you are enjoying your time there. Sanssouci will forever be empty and incomplete without up, its most important piece. I love you. Yours always, Friedrich._

Friedrich put the pen back down and roughly wiped at his wet face, getting those words out of his head had been easier than he had expected it to be but they only showed him, again, what he had lost. He shook the paper with one hand until the ink had dried completely, then folded and sealed it shut and pressed a kiss onto the seal, lips lingering for a moment before he stood and placed the letter in the letter tray. Friedrich would personally make sure that it would be send out first thing in the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

Philippe‘s smile only grew into a grin when Giacomo stared at the letter without blinking or any other visible reaction. “Are you not going to read it, _mignonette_?” “I...” Giacomo swallowed, “if it was send to humiliate me again I -” “Give it here,” the frenchman cut him off and snatched the letter from his fingers to tear the seal open. Giacomo‘s heart was racing in his chest when he watched Philippe read, his mind running just as fast as his heart.

“I think that you should read it.” Philippe‘s smile was honest and warm as he offered the letter back to Giacomo, who hesitated momentarily before accepting it rather reluctantly. He could live without further humiliation well enough. Philippe seemed to notice his hesitation and closed in on him, putting an arm over Giacomo‘s shoulder to pull him close, “Trust me, _mon ange_.” Giacomo looked up at him before looking back down at the letter with a sigh, hands trembling slightly as he read and Philippe leaned his temple against the blond‘s head, the hand on Giacomo‘s shoulder gently caressing as Giacomo read the letter once, twice. “See? I told you.”

Giacomo gasped and looked up at Philippe again, his eyes wide, “He loves me?” It was a rhetorical question that the frenchman knew not to answer and he pulled the other close again instead. He knew that Giacomo would never love or see him in the way that Philippe loved and saw him, but that did not mean that Philippe would stop him from achieving his personal happiness - one only wants the best for the person they love, do they not?

There had been very few times in his life where Giacomo‘s mind had been genuinly blank and unable to connect the dots. He did not, no, he could not understand Friedrich‘s letter... well, he now knew after Philippe‘s confession that Friedrich had not lashed out at him out of the blue in the sky, that he had not been in a right mind. No matter with what arguements he tried to come up with, Giacomo failed at convincing himself that Friedrich‘s letter was a lie. He had practically been able to feel the emotions through the words, words that had gone straight to his heart. Giacomo just wished that it was true. “Oh, Philippe... what does this mean?”

Philippe swallowed and opened and closed his mouth for a few times, much like a fish on the dry. He did not know how he could honestly answer Giacomo‘s question addressed to him, “I am sorry, I do not know,” he finally said. The look on his face must have been tale-telling enough and Philippe took in a sharp intake of breath when Giacomo cupped a hand against one of his cheeks, raised onto the tips of his toes and kissed him. His lips were dry and a bit chapped but still so incredibly soft against Philippe‘s.

“ _Mon ange_...” “It is okay, I understand,” Giacomo whispered, a huff of warm air against the frenchman‘s cheek as they stood near the water, their long hair being blown around them by the wind in an almost protecting curtain that devided them from the scenery. Blue eyes searched brown, Philippe‘s vision blurred by tears that rolled down his cheeks as he closed his eyes when he was kissed by the blond again.

Giacomo placed a peck onto the corner of Philippe‘s mouth before he pulled away, letting out a laugh that crossed borders with a sob as he, too, wiped at tears on his face, “Thank you for being such a good friend.” “Will you not push me away because of my feelings for you when... they clearely do not comply with yours?” Giacomo tsked and took his hand, “I would never do that, Philippe, you are very dear to me and I shall be forever greatful for what you did for me.” “You are so kind-hearted, _mon ange_.” The two men smiled at each other, simply enjoying the moment until Giacomo shuddered and his jacket closer around him, a motion that made Philippe frown. Barely the first week of October had passed and while the summer was gone, it was nowhere near cold enough to be shivering from the temperatures.

“Are you this cold?” Philippe gestured that he would shrugg off his own coat but Giacomo dismissed it with a wave of his hand,” N-no, I am not freezing so badly.” He wiped at his nose with one finger and pulled it up, clearing his throat. He was itching for another dose of the powder he carried with him, but he never would have admitted to it. “You are still using, are you not.” It was no real question. “You do, too!” “Oui, that is right. But I am only using when I am in a happy round and enjoying myself, mignonette, and not to suppress any underlying emotions and memories.”

How had Philippe been able to read him so well?

Giacomo clenched his jaw shut, he had not expected the French to hit the nail on its head, “I will stop using... soon.” “Promise it.” He licked his lips, “I promise,” he spoke low, trying to convince both Philippe and himself. “Let us go back, I do not want you to catch your death out here,” Philippe hooked his arm with Giacomo‘s, the blond snorting at his words. “I am not some... damsel in distress.” “Oh really? You made me believe so,” Philippe chirped with a toothy grin that made Giacomo blush. “Philippe!” The frenchman laughed and Giacomo smiled, too, a smile that soon faded again however when the letter in his pocket crept back into his mind.

Yes, he wished for Friedrich‘s words to be true... but how could he know that they were or were not? That it was not just something Friedrich had done to clear his guilty conscience. “There is something on your mind, mignonette. What is it.” Giacomo sighed. “It is that... damned letter. Why did he write it now, now that I almost managed to get over him? Why did he have to invade my life again?” Philippe quirked an eyebrow at the very obvious lie and Giacomo felt heat rising up his neck, well aware that he had been caught. “I do not know, I am not Friedrich, but I can imagine that it may have taken him some time to... come to terms with it. I do know that he can be exceptionally thick-headed.”

Giacomo hummed, considering Philippe‘s words, “So you do not believe his words to be a lie?” “ _Non_ , _mignonette_ , what good would it do him. You are here in France and he is in Prussia and a single letter will not change it.” “You are right,” the Italian whispered, “he is not here.” Philippe, again, did not know what to answer, though he wanted to comfort his friend. “Will you answer his letter?” Giacomo sighed wearily, “I must think about it first. I do not know what I could possibly write to him, at least not now.” “That I understand,” Philippe nodded, “just take your time, mignonette, neither I nor anybody else will pressure you into anything.” Now that they were ambling at a pleasureable pace rather than a heated stride, the way back to the château seemed to last thrice as long. Neither of the two men complained about it. “But I will write him, I definitely will.” “ _Oui_?”

“I love him,” Giacomo‘s voice had dropped even lower, “more than I have ever loved another, and I fear that... my heart will die before I do if I never get to see him again.” “Do not say that -” “I mean it, Philippe. I cannot live without him, for I have given him a part of myself.” His hand on Philippe‘s arm tightened its hold almost desperately, as if it was a lifeline, and the frenchman gently put his free hand onto Giacomo‘s, “If it is meant to be it will be, trust me, mignonette.”

Giacomo really had not wanted to go the the ball that night, he was sore and tired and he needed to think, but as he thus layed stretched out on his bed and stared at the ceiling, he found himself to be utterly bored and lonesome. So he decided to go after all, walking through the double-winged door of the ball room more than three hours after the ball had officially started. It appeared to be a very merry occasion as Giacomo tried to slip into the room that was filled with music and people‘s chatters as nondescriptive as he could. He cleared his throat and fixed a strand of hair away from his face, moving past countless people and further into the room with hopes to find either Achille or Philippe.

“Ah, I feared that you would not show up.” Knowing that the other could not see it, Giacomo rolled his eyes before he turned around with a fake and put-on smile, “Maximilien. What a pleasant surprise.” Maximilien snorted and threw his head back emptied the rest of his drink in one go like a shot, “It is no surprise, gorgeous, I shall believe that you know me well enough by now to... expect me not to miss any party. Do you have nothing to drink?” “No, I just came.” Maximilien winked and wriggled an eyebrow at him, the ginger-haired frenchman clearly already having stepped over the swell of tipsy. “Do not run off gorgeous, I will find you something to drink.” He swaggered away and Giacomo shifted from foot to foot, looking over his shoulder to watch the man go. He was most certainly not in the mood to have that... sly bastad around him, but Giacomo could not spot Achille nor Philippe and he did not knew too many people he could have a conversation beyond meaningless court talk with. So Maximilien it was.

“There you go, gorgeous,” Maximilien chirped with a silky voice as he returned with promised drinks for both him and Giacomo, passing one glass of Champagne to the blond. “Thank you, you are too kind.” The French tsked and retrieved a small vial from within his coat with a swift motion, popping its lid open with one thumb, “I do not blieve that you are aversed?”

Giacomo had wanted to say no, just like the small voice in the back of his head was screaming at him to do, but another part of him longed for the sweet, drug-induced bliss so Giacomo gave in and offered his glass to the French with a toothy grin, “Me? Never.” “That is the Giacomo I know,” Maximilien chuckled and put exactly five drops into Giacomo‘s glass, who swirled it around to get it to mix with the sparkling wine. “To a... pleasant night.” The Italian accepted the French‘s toast, and the warning voice nagging in the back of Giacomo‘s head fell silent with the first drop of wine on his tongue.

They were rutting at each other like animals in heat, Giacomo shamelessly humping against Maximilien‘s thigh, which the other had pushed between his legs, while his hands got a tight hold on those luscious red curls. Giacomo‘s mouth was being attacked by an equally hungry mouth, a tongue dominantly claiming entrance with obscene and tale-telling wet sounds. Where they were, with Maximilien having pressed Giacomo up against a wall, they could easily make out the sounds of the still ongoing ball but had not managed to stumble farther, consumed by the drug as they were. Maximilien abandoned Giacomo‘s mouth and moved down to pay attention to the blond‘s neck instead, growling almost animalicly at the moan Giacomo let out when he sucked a bruise onto the slightly tanned skin. Giacomo let out a strangled whine and pushed Maximilien‘s head back, the French‘s mouth detaching with another obscene _plop_ , to be able to kiss him again, hands cupping his face as he pulled him closer, their tongues playing around each other.

“We should go,” Maximilien rasped, looking around to make sure that they were not being watched before he grabbed Giacomo‘s hand and pulled him along at a fast pace, almost running. The blond giggled, but it felt nothing like what he had done with Friedrich in the park of Sanssouci. Maximilien was only out to fuck him, he knew, but what did he care at that moment. He wanted nothing else.

“My rooms,” he breathed, pushing his heels into the ground to halt Maximilien after they had ran up a flight of stairs, pointing to the right corridor opposed to the left the French had wanted to take, “they are more secluded.” “So that is what one gets for being a king‘s whore,” Maximilien whispered into Giacomo‘s ear and shamelessly groped at his ass. Giacomo whirled around, “What did you say?” The frenchman chuckled and wrapped an arm around the struggling blond‘s waist to pull him closer, “Relax gorgeous, I was merely making a joke.” “You need to work on your sense of humor,” Giacomo snarled, but the blood rushing through his veins was buzzing with heat and intoxication. Damn it, he thought, cursing himself for accepting the offered drink. Maximilien nibbled at his earlobe, “The only thing I need to work on in the near future is you.”

Clothes were being torn off as soon as the door had closed behind them and they were in the privacy of Giacomo‘s rooms. “Hurry please,” Giacomo whined when the younger man struggled with the many small buttons of his ridiculously expensive trousers, another surge of pure attraction shooting through him when Maximilien simply tore the fabric open, the frenchman‘s fingers to unsteady to bother with further tries. “I cannot wait to fuck you - hmpf!” Maximilien cut him off by kissing him hard and grabbing both Giacomo‘s throat and the swell of his ass, guiding him backwards until the back of the blond‘s thighs hit the bed. “You fucking me, gorgeous? I would like to see you try,” Maximilien spoke low and turned Giacomo around to push him onto the bed with a smack to his ass. “Oh really?”

Giacomo laughed and pulled his lower lip between his teeth when the French climbed onto the mattress behind him, hoisting him up the the hip so he was resting on his knees and thus in the perfect face-down-ass-up position, “I will show you,” Maximilien purred, holding a cupped hand in front of Giacomo‘s mouth. “Spit, it is the only lube that you are going to get.” God, it was so dirty and Giacomo was sure he would have been slightly grossed out if he had not been so turned on. He locked eyes with Maximilien and did as he was told to do, cock stirring when the French moaned, “Good boy, gorgeous.”

Though he had tried to collect as much spit as possible it still came not even close to an actual lubricant and it burned and stung when Maximilien entered him with two fingers at once. Giacomo clenched involuntarily when he was scissored open and the digits entered him deeper, searching for his spot and moaning as the French easily found it. “You really are a slut,” Maximilien praised, the tip of his tongue trapped between his teeth smacked down onto Giacomo‘s raised ass with no real rhythm. Giacomo bucked and thrusted his hips backwards, trying to get more of the fingers inside of him and thus signaling that he had been prepared enough. “Come on,” he whined when Maximilien did not catch on right away, “just fuck me already, I do not have the whole nigh - ah!”

He thought to see sparks and stars when the other entered him to the hilt with one hard and single thrust, Maximilien‘s hand gripping Giacomo‘s hips hard enough to leave bruises as he allowed the blond to get used to the feeling of penetration before he started to move. Neither of them spoke much, it was fucking in its most rawest form. There were no declarations of love, no aderations or whispers of praise, just the sound of skin hitting skin and the labored breathing of the two men.

Giacomo‘s hands were gripping the bedspread with a white-knuckled grip and his eyes were squeezed shut, he knew it was not right but he had started to imagine that it was Friedrich, the one he loved, who was fucking him instread, that it were his hands on and his cock inside of Giacomo, that it were his exerted breath and his moan that stood so loud in the room. “You are so tight, gorgeous,” Maximilien moaned and snapped his hips forward hard, tearing a whined moan from the Italian, his thrusts getting more and more erratic and he managed a couple more before he thrusted forward for the last time, pulling Giacomo‘s hips against his as he released himself into him. Giacomo followed him over the edge a few moments after, too, breathing heavily and thighs shaking.

“Thank you,” Maximilien whispered against the sweaty skin of Giacomo‘s back and pressed a haste kiss onto his shoulder before he pulled out with a groan and started redressing as good as he could, minding his destroyed trousers of course, and left Giacomo without any further words.

Giacomo still had not caught his breath as he slowly lowered himself into a laying position, the burn of his recent... activities sending out waves of pain and pleasure that went straight to his now flacid cock.

He could not believe what just had happened.

While he had once or twice fallen into flashbacks of Friedrich fucking him while he was, in reality, being fucked by another and felt Friedrich‘s hand on him more often, he had not been able to truly imagine _him_ , his presence and his touches so that it felt even more real than life. Oh, how Giacomo missed Friedrich. He sniffled and cursed himself for allowing his mind to pull itself down again. Missing him was to no avail. Just like Philippe had said earlier - he was France while Friedrich was thousand kilometers away in Prussia. Something in his mind lit up, there actually was something he could do. The letter. Hope clutched at Giacomo‘s heart as he scrambled off the bed and first into the bathroom to clean himself before he sat back down on the edge of his bed and pulled out Friedrich‘s letter from where he had put it into the safety of the drawer in his nighstand.

_I will continue to love you until my lungs draw in their last intake of breath, until my heart falls still forever._

A sad but yet wide smile broke out on Giacomo‘s face and he gently cradled the letter against his chest, careful as to not crease it by accident. No, he would most likely never be able to forget the event of that one night, the things that Friedrich had done and said and the pain that it all brought to him, but it was already easier dealing with the memories now, after Philippe‘s confession, that he knew why. Giacomo tried to be positive about it, he really did. But the nagging and drug-induced voice in the back of his head had returned once more to hiss about it may as well being a mere joke, a last attempt of Friedrich to hurt him.

He sighed wearily and bit down on the inside of his lower lip as he tried to figure out what to do next, shooting to his feet in a blink of an eye when he suddenly knew. Damn him, if it would turn out to be a joke Giacomo would at least not be there to witness Friedrich laughing at him. He strode over to his writing desk, still naked as he was, and sat down with one knee pulled to his chest, staring at the pen for a couple of moments before he grabbed it.

Damn him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I struggled so hard with this one and it's definitely not my best but hey, it is what it is.
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

“Wilhelm.”

“Yes, Sire?”

“Tell that I will not be coming, send them away,” Friedrich was rather hunched than sitting on his throne, wide legged and leaned onto one elbow. He was shielding his eyes with one hand, drumming on the armrest with the other. “Of course, Sire. What do you wish for me to tell them?” “I do not care what you tell them!” Friedrich barked so loud and viciously that the valet flinched involuntarily and took a couple of steps back. “Of course, Sire. I apologize.” He hurried out of the room before Friedrich could apologize for his outburst and the king of Prussia heaved himself onto his feet with an exhausted and weary sigh.

It was anything but his day and he should not have expected it to be.

The anniversary of Wilhelmine‘s death always took a toll on him, but this one... was different from those in the prior five years. It was the dull realization of something missing rather than intense and raw pain, and the older Friedrich got the more he started to really appreciate what he had in her. Wilhelmine had been the only one of his nine simplings that he had been close with, she had been the one that he had shared his passion of art, literature and music with and Wilhelmine had also been the one to care for his wounds, both mentally and physically, everytime after their father had lashed out at him.

Friedrich, on the other hand, had comforted her endless times, too, when the governess had abused and beaten her. They shared a bond not only over the arts but over their unhappy childhood. Brother and sister had lived seperate lives as adults, of course, even more so after Wilhelmine got married off to the Margrave of Brandenburg-Bayreuth and moved to Bayreuth but they had always stayed in touch.

That Wilhelmine‘s meeting with Maria Theresa of Austria almost destroyed their relationship still edged and hurt him in a way, but it was nothing compared to how he had felt when the news had been carried to him. His sister had died on the same day he had suffered a painful defeat in the Battle of Hochkirch where Count Leopold Joseph von Daun had showed up with more than twice as many men than Friedrich had been leading.

Friedrich usually managed to suppress those memories just as well as the others regarding the many friends and family members he had lost the the fate of death but he now allowed it to wash over in what he suspected to be self-pity. He could not must to find the strength to fight against it anyway.

He was just missing too many people on his life. Katte, Wilhelmine, Fredersdorf, Giacomo. Missing Giacomo, though, was different than missing the others - they were dead and burried, all long cold and hopefully having passed on to live a more peaceful and spiritual life. But the man Friedrich loved now and probably never would stop loving was still amongst the living and walking this very earth and somehow, that was even worse. While Friedrich knew that he would never be able to see or touch Katte, no matter how much he may long for it, he was hyperaware of the fact that Giacomo was breathing and laughing and living incredibly close and yet so far away from him.

It did not help that it was Friedrich‘s fault that the Italian had left, too, no matter how hard Wilhelm tried to talk him into thinking otherwise.

Friedrich shuddered and began to move away from the spot he had been glued to over to the door. He could not stand the narrowness of being closed in his palace, his Sanssouci and former place of happiness. He needed to clear head as Friedrich feared that he would otherwise lose his composure once and for all, the longing and grief too much for him to deal with his official duties having only made it through one single audience.

Using the servant‘s passway that layed hidden behind the walls of the royal rooms he hobbled back towards the wing where his private rooms were with the aid of his cane and as if they had been awaiting him, Friedrich could hear his hounds whimper when he closed the passway‘s door behind him. “Did you miss me? Did you, hm,” he whispered, rather to himself, and lowered himself onto aching knees to allow them to greet him. Their tails were wagging and their rough tongues were all over Friedrich‘s face, “Easy, boys, easy,” he still spoke low and the smile he was wearing was small and incredibly sad.

It just... was not his day.

His knee was aching terribly when he stood again and he grit his teeth together with a snarl - what an embittered, old and pained man he had turned into. Friedrich Wilhelm‘s laugh could surely be heard like an accompanying orchestra. Friedrich whistled to get his hound‘s attention and staggered over to the door, holding it open and motioning with his head which the animals immediately understood and plunged after each other. He must give a pitiful sight, Friedrich knew, leaned heavily onto his cane with a carved-in-stone face as he limped behind his houds, trying to keep up with them. But thanks to the not so good weather there were not many courtiers out and about for which he was more than greatful, and he almost sighed in relief when the meadow came into sight. The hounds acted out of habit, racing through the grass and playfully fighting.

Friedrich watched them for a few short minutes before he turned and hobbled to sit down on a wooden bench, not caring that its wetness soaked through the fabric of his pants in an instant and he tried not to wince when he stretched his hurting leg out, rubbing at the knee. It was hurting more than usual, an aftereffect of the beating he had received form his father‘s soldiers in Küstrin a few minutes after Katte had been beheaded. They had dragged him off the floor and chained him up before he had even regained consciousness, he had woken up to the stinging pain of one soldier‘s boot crushing his joint against the concrete cell floor.

While it had healed over the years to a point where Friedrich normally would not suffer from it, but it would still act up whenever there was a change of weather or he relived some of the most traumatizing moments of his life.

He cleared his throat and turned his gaze away from his hurting limp and up towards the grey and heavily clouded sky, closing his eyes as he allowed the drizzle to hit his face. The rain was ruining his hair, make up and clothes but Friedrich did not care, only so much as shivering when the autumn breeze hit him, it did feel good, instead, but failed to hide the twin streaks of tears on his cheeks. Friedrich did not even know why he was crying. It, too, felt good though, cleanings to his heart, mind and soul and a sob escaped his throat and he held a clenched fist in front of his mouth.

Suddenly founding himself to be overwhelmed by all the memories he had so successfully managed to suppress, some for decades and others for a couple of weeks, feeling a burning and sharp stab in his side when he realized that it was the only thing he could do - suppress. With the background of all that he had lost and all the pain he had suffered it was still Giacomo he always came back to think about. Over a week had passed since he had send the letter to Saint-Cloud and the courier had already returned with the affirmation that the Italian had received the letter. But he had returned without a response.

Friedrich should have known, no, he had known in the back of his head that he would not get a response from Giacomo. He did not blame him, he could never do so, but also knew that he would have to... not forget him, but to push him back so far Giacomo would join Katte as a ghost that would hunt Friedrich in his most lonely hours. It was a scary and heartbreaking thought, but how else would he be able to live on?

So he sat there in the cold and drizzy weather, clutching his cane and watching his hounds without really taking them in. Letting out a sound that resembled that of a choked sob Friedrich roughly wiped his face with his free hand and cleared his throat in a desperate and week attempt to regain his composure.

Giacomo had been so utterly good to him. He had healed Friedrich in a way the elder had not even known he needed healing in the very short time Giacomo had stayed with him. Three weeks. Three weeks had been enough for the Italian to claim an enormous piece of Friedrich‘s heart and if he would be here now, Friedrich was sure that the blond would be scolding him with the gentle tone he had done before. _“You are working too hard, Friedrich. When do you ever get more than four hours of sleep?”_ There were no words to describe how badly he was longing to just have that beautiful and loving man back at his side.

Friedrich‘s eyelids fluttered close and he breathed in and out deeply before he opened them again and heaved himself onto his feet, calling his hounds back to him with a shrill whistle. He was getting quite cold and not really eager to catch a cold staying out much longer in the autumn afternoon.

_“Trust me, I am delighted to have you here, Liebling.”_

_“You are my Sanssouci.”_

His jaw was set when he limped the way back to the palace at a very slow pace, his hounds putting more and more space between them and their owner. Friedrich did not bother to call them back, he knew that they would very well find back on their own - “Sire!” Wilhelm came hurried towards him out of the nowhere, carrying what looked like a woolen blanket. “Can one not even go on a peaceful walk anymore -” “You have been gone for almost two hours, Sire, without letting anyone know where you went.” The snarl disappeared from Friedrich‘s face, “Two hours?” “Yes, Sire. Please let me get you in the warmth so you do not get a cold.” His shoulder slumped and he nodded; what a king he was.

The blanket was put over his shoulders and Friedrich refused to take the arm the valet was offering to him, he was no invalid, but did not argue when Wilhelm told him that a warm bath had already been filled in. That was something he would gladly accept, his bones were aching and a good half a hour in a nice bath would sure do wonders to his overworked mind.

“Are there any news, Wilhelm?” “None, Sire. The... ministers were confused and not very happy that you canceled the meetings so abruptly, but it should not be to your concern. I am sure that you had your reasons to do so, Sire.” “Indeed, yes,” Friedrich murmured, trying not to wince when he took the first step up the stairs to his rooms. “Are you hurt, Sire? Do you wish for me to notify your docto-” “No!” Friedrich cut him off with a bark, closing his eyes and his free hand, the one not holding the cane, clutched at the handrail as he stopped in his tracks momentarily. “Excuse my outburst. It is nothing a doctor could tend to, Wilhelm. Just get me into the bath and I will be good.” “Of course, Sire.”

Friedrich eventually had to let his valet help him undress, too, as he almost could not keep on his feet, the pain radiating from his knee up and down his whole leg in a throbbing pain. “I was free enough to add the oil you seem to enjoy a lot, Sire, I hope you do not mind.” A small smile played around the corners of the king‘s mouth.

It was the oil he had given to Giacomo as a present what must have been an eternity ago, the smell just being... Giacomo. Sweet and carefree and so incredibly soothing. “It is quite alright, Wilhelm. I thank you a lot.” He lowered himself into the warm water, breathing in deeply as he awaited the pain-solving effect. “Do you need anything else, Sire?” “No,” Friedrich leaned his head back, his eyes closed, “you may leave, Wilhelm.”

The valet nodded once and raised from his squatted position. He haltered shortly before he passed out of the bathroom, “Sire?” “Yes, Wilhelm,” Friedrich mumbled, trying not to let his beginning annoyance show. He just wanted to be left alone and in peace - “This came shortly after you left for your walk, Sire.” Since the valet showed no intend to define what it was, Friedrich sat up slightly to turn his head around to look. Oh, but how his heart stopped when he saw the letter Wilhelm was holding up. Despite the dimmed light in the room, he had no trouble to recognize the handwriting. “L-leave it on the side table.”

As soon as Friedrich could make out that Wilhelm had left him to be alone, he practically jumped out of the bath and dried off with a towel in record time. Damn his pains, he could not stand to go for another minute without not reading said letter. He was wrapped into a robe with his hair still dripping when padded out of the bathroom, his hand hovering over the letter in hesitation for a split moment before he carefully picked it up.

He soon noticed with a stab that it was heavy paper, royal paper, and his prior exitement for having received a letter sobered when noticed, too, that it was addressed to “His Majesty, the king of Prussia” and not “Friedrich”. For Giacomo to got back to formalities... Friedrich suddenly was not so sure if he wanted to read it anymore. But he would not have been able to let it rest unopened, of course, and this he sat down on the edge of his bed and carefully opened the seal before unfolding it.

Giacomo‘s hand must not have been very steady when he wrote the few lines, _I wished nothing more than for you to love me back and now that I know you do, it makes moving on only so much harder. Why are you doing this now, Friedrich? What do you want us to do?_

Friedrich lowered the letter, it had not been signed and the questions it carried screamed at him almost accusingly.

_“Why are you doing this now, Friedrich?”_

_“What do you want us to do?”_ He still smiled briefly at the use of “us” and folded the piece of paper, turning it between his fingers as he tried to think of what he could possibly do next. While those few written words could hardly be called a letter rather than a note, Friedrich would still prefer them over a work from Voltaire‘s as they carried so much meaning to him.

Giacomo had taken the time of his day to answer, although his answer mostly consisted of further questions. _I_ _wished_ _nothing_ _more_ _than_ _for_ _you_ _to_ _love_ _me_ _back_. “Mein Liebling,” Friedrich whispered, “I will prove my love for you. I promise.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

Philippe could practically feel Achille smirking at him as they hasted through the château, the heels of their shoes clicking loudly against the wooden floor. The grip Philippe had on the oil painting was anything but delicate.

“Tell me, cousin, what is your problem?”

Philippe murmured something under his breath, the two frenchman smoothly moving past a group of courtiers. “Do you not think that it is a bit over the top?” “ _Non_ ,” Achille said with a shake of his head, “they are in love, cousin, and that,” he pointed at the painting Philippe was carrying, “is what people who are in love _do_.” Philippe‘s face pulled into a grimace and he stopped in his tracks to shoot him a dark gaze, “It could be easily seen as official courting protocol! That damned king send a letter for every single day and now this,” he lifted what he was holding to demonstrate, “it is -”

“You are jealous,” Achille stated with a forced neutral voice and he watched as Philippe simply went on with his way without a verbal answering. It was an answer enough. The blond frenchman hurried to get back at his cousin‘s side, “You totally are.” “Enough,” the other snarled, “he knows that I love him and I know that he sees me as nothing more but a good friend of his and that is about it.” “You will not ruin this for him, will you.”

When they stopped next, it was as they had reached Giacomo‘s rooms and Philippe drew in a deep breath to steady himself. “No, of course I will not do so. Or would you like to see Joseph in pain, pain that you caused?” Not awaiting an answer he then raised his hands to knock at the door thrice in quick succession, taking a step back and swallowing as he waited the permission to enter. “Enter.”

Giacomo looked up from where he was sitting at the writing desk, putting down the pen whose cap he had been absentmindly tapping against his closed lips. He offered his greeting with a smile, “I thought that you would come to see me later, Philippe. Oh, Achille! How nice it is to see you. Good day, is it not?” “ _Oui_ , it is indeed.” “Well, I had wanted to come later and I would have done so, _mignonette_ , if this would not just have been delivered for you.” Philippe avoided to look directly at Giacomo as he presented the oil painting to the Italian, trying his hardest to ignore the tugs at the strings of his heart that were prominent when he could hear him making a low awe sound in the back of his throat.

“Is it really for me?” Biting back the snarky remark of no French ever hanging up a painting depicting the king of Prussia, Philippe simply spun it around so Giacomo could read the inscription on the back. _My beloved Liebling, I hope with all my heart that your Christmas is what you hoped it to be like. My only wish had been for you to be here and I am more than unhappy that you are not. Yours always and truly, Friedrich._ “Christmas? Is it not a bit early for that?” The French blushed furiously, he cursed himself and his entire line of blood for not reading the note that had been hefted on the case the painting had been transported in before he had decided to take it to Giacomo.

“ _Mon dieu mignonette_ , I am so sorry I -”

Giacomo tsked and winked at him, still smiling as he took Friedrich‘s portrait from Philippe, turning away from him and Achille with wide and glistering eyes to walk over to the fireplace and place it on the mantelshelf. It fit perfectly but Philippe still shook his head as he watched the man he loved being practically captivated by the piece of art, if it were not Friedrich as the subject of the depicted scenery that was so utterly peaceful and romantic - the king was standing on what had to be a small hill at a late hour, the sky full of bright stars as he looked over his shoulder and at the beholder with kind eyes - Philippe would have been able to appreciate its quality. It was all but an official king‘s portrait that a king would send to a friend. No, it was personal. And if Philippe would have been allowed to pick it up and throw it into the lit fire, he probably would have done so just to see it burn.

“Its is beautiful,” Giacomo chirped and turned around to look at the frenchmen, “or do you think otherwise?” Philippe‘s cheeks were burning hot and he chose not to answer to the blond‘s question. “Philippe? Are you alright?” Achille snorted and chuckled, passing his cousin a glass of sparkling wine he had retrieved from one of the side tables. He nudged Philippe with his shoulder hard enough to make the curly-haired almost lose hold of the glass. “I fear that he swallowed his tongue. What a shame, cousin, your voice will be dearly missed.” Philippe glared at Achille as he drank slow but without pulling off between the mouthfulls.

“So, Giacomo,” Achille asked casually and sat down on the edge of Giacomo‘s desk, swirling the wine around as he looked into the glass. “Tell me, how are the letters going? I hope they are not too sticky to open.”

Giacomo, who had since moved to the side table that held the jug of wine and glassed to get himself something to drink, too, almost choked around it and spluttered, “Achille!” at the same time Philippe did. Now it was not only the frenchman‘s face that stood in an obvious red. “What?” Achille breathed out, holding a hand to his chest in a mockingly shocked manner, “Am I not allowed to wish for a dear friend of mine to be able to get pleasure and satisfaction anymore?”

Giacomo snorted. Philippe looked at his cousin over the rim of his glass, “Oh _s'il te plait_ , what could you possibly know about that?” Giacomo fell into a full-on laughter that had him shook when the smile on Achille‘s face grew into a wide and toothy grin. It was a sufficient answer. “ _Mon dieu_ , _non_ ,” Philippe threw a hand into the air before he used it to cover his eyes, turning around to let his back face Achille and Giacomo, “Achille, no,” he groaned. The Italian was laughing so hard that he was hunched over a bit, hand stammed into his side, “I - I,” he snorted again, wiping at his eyes with the palm of his hand. “What are you so shocked about, cousin? How do you think Joseph and I were able to keep it upright between the two of us.”

“ _Bonne mère du seigneur_ ,” Philippe shuddered, “I could have lived without those... images just well enough.” Giacomo patted his back sympathetically while he threw his head back to drown the rest of the wine like one would a shot. “I will need something stronger if I wish to think about something else from now on.” “So, who is this Joseph, Achille? I do not believe that you mentioned him to me yet.”

“He is... someone I met in Vienna a few years ago - “ “Oh please, he is not just _someone you met in Vienna a few years ago_ ,” Philippe cut Achille off, seemingly having recovered from his shock rather quickly. “Do not tell me that you fear Giacomo to go around and tattle. He will not do so.” “I will not go around and tattle about what?” Giacomo‘s eyes switched back and forth between the frenchmen. “That _someone_ happens to be Joseph Benedict Anthony Michael Adam of Austria, the eldest son of Maria Theresia.” Giacomo gasped and openly stared at Achille, “You and - is he not just a kid?” “To your information, he will soon turn twenty-seven and is anything but just a kid,” the French snapped, clearly unamused.

“Already? I must be getting old then because I swear he was just born.”

His remark, as Giacomo had hoped, managed to wipe Achille‘s scowl right off in an instant. “You are not getting old mignonette you are in very much your prime,” Philippe squealed, almost shocked at Giacomo‘s statement, pressing a haste kiss to his cheek. “Well, I do hope so.” “You are definitely not,” Achille joined in though his smile was not as bright as before. “I am sorry Achille, I did not mean to hurt you by joking about it, I just... did not expect it.” “I know you did not, Giacomo. I wanted to tell you for some time but -” When we -” “Joseph does know that there are others and so do I, meaningless and simple sexual encounters do not change the love we are sharing.”

Giacomo nodded, while he understood he also knew that he probably could deal with the knowledge of Friedrich taking others. Well, he had done so but not when he and Friedrich were still together and lovers. He had done in an attempt to replace Friedrich. “The only sorrow shadowing above our happiness is the circumstance of us not being able to spend more than a few weeks together at a time.”

“Why can you not do so?”

“He is the _dauphin_ , the heir to the throne of Austria and the Holy Roman Empire. It would not do him any good if his... relationship with a french nobleman would come to light.” “How long have you two been...” “Almost five years.” “Congratulations,” Giacomo smiled, “I am happy for you.” He took another sip of wine before he spoke next, “When will you be able to see him again?” Achille sighed and stood, “February, and it cannot come quick enough.” “That I can imagine.”

“I must be going, there are still some duties I have to fullfill prior to our evening arrangement. _Je vous verrai plus tard_.” Achille left and Giacomo and Philippe sat down in the two identical armchairs that stood in front of the fireplace, each a glass of wine in hand. “I do not know why but I did not expect that,” the Italian said, eyes turned towards the fire. “Why did you not expect Achille to -” He sighed, “I know that one really should not be talking about their friend in such manner but he... simply does not seem like the most loving person, that is all. And to be able to keep such a relationship up for five years?”

Philippe nodded, “Oui, he does come over as cold and distant but trust me when I say that he has not always been this way. I believe that it is his way of shielding out anyone that may be able to look at the hurt past his mask.” “What hurt?” “He fears that Joseph will discard him once he will be coronated as Holy Roman Emperor next year. I doubt that he will do so, but I can also understand his fear.” “Oh,” Giacomo said low, “I can imagine nicer circumstances to live under.” “Indeed.”

He was taken aback by how cut off Philippe‘s answer suddenly got and he swallowed before he allowed his voice to drop even lower, “You are mad about him and me, are you not.”

Philippe took his hand and squeezed it once. “ _Non_ , _mon ange_.” The French did not let go of Giacomo‘s hand and the Italian made no attempt pull it back. “Then why are you so different, Philippe,” the blond sounded incredibly close to his waters out of the sudden, “I miss having my friend around me.” Philippe simply continued to stare into the flames, swallowing when Giacomo huffed under his breath and aversed his eyes away from him. “Philippe -” “I,” he drew in a shuddering breath and tried to speak around the lump in his throat, “forget it, it would be wrong of me to speak it out.”

“Philippe,” Giacomo urged him one, taking turn to squeeze his hand. The silver tear that rolled down over Philippe‘s cheek left behind a trail so thin it could only be caught by the right flicker of the flame at the right time. “It hurts. I apologize for saying it but it hurts so badly.” Giacomo shifted his eyes back at him. “The letters... every single day I get bombarded with letters addressed to you from him. Every day. And you write him back every day, too, for which I do not blame you but it hurts nonetheless and when I received this earlier...” Philippe did not have to gesture to the painting for Giacomo to know what he was talking about, and the blond pulled his hand back with one rough motion.

Philippe balled his hand into a fist and quickly pulled it back, too.

“Do not make me choose between you and him,” Giacomo whispered almost too low for Philippe to catch it, “you know that I cannot be without him.” “Nonono, _mignonette_ , I would never expect you to make such a decision. It would not be fair.” Giacomo was already on his feet and removing the painting from the mantelshelf when Philippe‘s hands on his shoulders stopped him, them close enough to the crooks of his necks to allow the thumbs to stroke the soft skin there, “Put it back.” “But you said -” “It was a stupid thing for me to say, Giacomo. These are your rooms and you may decorate them to your liking and since it is the man you so clearly love you do not have to make arrangements of any sort. Especially not for me. Do you understand, _mon ange_?”

“I am sorry that I was so unaware of the pain that I caused you, Philippe. I should have known better -” “I would say that I am going to spank you if you do not stop apologizing for something you carry the least amount of guilt for but you would enjoy it rather than take it as a punishment I fear. Or am I wrong?” Giacomo snorted and only barely blushed when his ass was padded with love taps, he was comfortable around the frenchman and knew that he was only teasing without meaning any real harm. “You cannot keep your hands away, can you.” “No, but I know that I have to.”

A somewhat sad smile spread out on Philippe‘s face and he closed his arms around Giacomo as the blond hugged him hard, speaking against his chest, “We can still do this.” Giacomo felt content being held in an embrace like this one, it was cleansing and nothing more than something close friends would do. “I had hoped so, mignonette, and I fear that I could not do without it,” Philippe spoke low when they parted and brushed a strand of Giacomo‘s hair back from the man‘s face, it had grown more than a bit since he had arrived at Saint-Cloud. He now could, at least with his looks, fit in with the French and their fashion just right.

“You should keep its length, _mon ange_. It suits you well.” “I am considering it, actually.”

They both laughed and Giacomo allowed Philippe to kiss his forehead before he too stated that he would have to leave. “No, do not be sorry Philippe. I will see you this evening?” “ _Oui_ , I will come and get you point eight o‘clock. No minute later. And do not forget to put on warm attire.” “How could I. Now go, I am sure you do not want to keep whoever you are scheduled to meet waiting any longer.” Philippe threw him a smile over the shoulder before he exited the room.

Giacomo hummed an uplifting tune an pulled his lower lip between his lip to stop himself from breaking into a full-on grin, why he did not know, and swiftly sat back down between the desk. He pulled out a new piece of paper, unscrewed the pen - his eyes were once again glued to Friedrich‘s portrait when Giacomo pondered about what he could write, tapping the pen against his lips in the same absendminded manner as he had done before. The painting would have made a perfect Christmas present and while he was somewhat.. not angry at Philippe, he was way more glad that he had already been given it on this day as the festivities were still about two weeks away. He had not known how seeing Friedrich after over four months, even if it was only in oil paint, was like a soothing balm to his soul and spread out warmth in his chest.

He longed to touch Friedrich, to gently ease out the creases that were always deepened when he was worryful and to kiss him. Oh, kissing him was what Giacomo probably longed for the most as he sat at his desk, elbows leaned on the table top and face cupped in his hands, and stared into the crackling fire. Friedrich had always been so gentle when he kissed him, even when it had been in the heat of night, and Giacomo could still feel Friedrich‘s warm lips on his as if they had just been there, the king‘s tongue just as gently asking for entrance between them...

Shuddering, Giacomo tried to snap back out of it and felt himself blush at the strain present against the fly of his trousers. He could have laughed at himself - from kissing alone? From _imagining_ kissing Friedrich? “ _Buon dio_ ,” he cursed, but chuckled and shook his head at the sillyness of his thoughts, twirling a strand of hair around his index finger. Now that it reached closer to his waist than to his chest it curled at its end on its own and Giacomo chose to wear it more often unbound rather than combed back into a strict pony tail.

It would most likely be considered feminine and unfit to be worn by a man in Italy, but his home country was as far away for Giacomo as anything could be. He had not shown any intend to leave Saint-Cloud for Venice before the sea would become impassable in the months of winter and Philippe had assured him daily, and still did every now and then, that he could stay for as long as he wanted. So Giacomo had stayed, had unpacked his many suitcases and moved his belonging into chest of drawers. Philippe had insisted, despite the Italian almost angrily trying to turn it down, on buying him a whole new wardrobe of winter attire.

Giacomo had packed for summer, after all, when he had travelled to Prussia in early July.

He realized with a hot rush of embarassment that he had not yet picked out a Christmas present for Friedrich, but before he could work on that he would need to get this letter written and send it out with the last mail coach of the day

~

“I hope that you are ready, _mignonette_.” Giacomo laughed at Philippe‘s sing-sang voice that came from the other side of the door which he zestfully opened, revealing the surprised-looking frenchman. The look on his face was enough to send the blond into a laughing fit, or rather what he could see of his face as Philippe had covered half of it with a thick scarf so only his eyes were showing.

“And I believed that that I was the one that cannot stand the cold.” “Do not get cheeky, mignonette, you will be the one that will be whining for a hot bath after a quarter hour on the outside.” Giacomo tsked and put on the fur-lined gloved that Philippe had gifted him with, too. “How do I look?” He asked and spun around in a playful manner to present his new attire to the other. “I could not imagine a more beautiful thing than you as of now.” Philippe stepped further into the room and behind Giacomo to help him pull his hair out from underneath his scarf. “Thank you,” Giacomo whispered and turned around to face Philippe, smiling up at him and hooking his arm underneath the French‘s.

“You do not look too bad yourself.” “That is actually the nicest thing anyone has said to me to this day. Come, we should go. I am sure that they are waiting for us.”

Philippe had arranged the winter‘s evening sleigh ride for the small group consisting of his closest friends, not even two handsful at top, that could easily be fitted into three sledges. Each was pulled by a pair of Percherons and decorated with lanterns. It seemed like an act out of one of Giacomo‘s books - “Have the sole of your shoes froze to the ground, _mignonette_? Get in,” Philippe laughed deeply and gently urged Giacomo on to take the two steps into the leading one of the sledges with a hand in the small on his back.

Giacomo sat down facing forward, Achille sitting down next to him while Philippe chose the bench opposite of him so they could be face to face with each other. They set into motion and Giacomo found instand relaxation in the sound of the heavy hooves of the hourses thumping against the thick snow, there simply was nothing alike to one of the few things he actually could enjoy during winter time.

“Are you comfortable enough?” Philippe asked him after some time, his voice muffled by the scarf he had still wrapped around the good half of his face. “ _Mon dieu_ , cousin, would you ease up a bit. Our dear friend is no damsel in distress,” Achille scolded without any real bite behind it, chuckling when Giacomo‘s elbow nudged him in the rips. “Do not be so mean. I will manage, Philippe, even though I am sure that my nose is already frozen,” Giacomo rubbed at his nose with a gloved hand to underline his words but the truth was that even if his nose had frozen, which it had not, he could not have cared less. The scenery was simply too beautiful, they were moving away from the château and the river into the lighly grown forest, the snow so white and untouched it almost made the dark evening seem bright.

Giacomo and the rest of the group spend the next twenty minutes or so in comfortable and light silence, enjoying the ride until the Italian suddenly jumped up and out of the sledge, landing in the snow on his knees. “ _Quoi sur terre_ \- halt!” Philippe called out and climbed off the sledge, “Giacomo, what are you -” _Puff_. Laughter broke out around him when a snowball hit his scar-protected face. “Scared of a little snowball fight, old man,” Giacomo teased with a grin, already forming another ball with his hands after pulling off the gloved and putting them into the pockets of his coat, a hindrance as they were.

Achille whistled sharply, snow in his hands after he and the others had gotten out, too. “ _Hé_ , cousin!” Before Philippe could react another snowball hit him square between his shoulder blades and hard enough to send him stumbling a few steps forward. “Friendly fire,” Giacomo tsked and dramatically raised his eyebrows, “Are you just going to let that happen to the great Philippe de Lorraine?”

Philippe threw a ball at each Achille and Giacomo with record speed, placing the opening shots for the silly snowball fight that broke out immediately after. Really, the picture they must be giving. Noble men whose ages reached from mid-twenties to early forties running after each and trying to get the best hit at each other, some even playing dead and rolling around in the snow when they had been hit. Their laughter was carefree and loud enough that it could surely be heard back at the château.

He did not know for how long they had been playing like this before a shudder when through Giacomo at the same time a stinging pain in one of his temples did, and his breath hitched after hitting another successful hit at Philippe. He coughed from the cold scratching at the back of his throat and wiped at his nose with the back of his hand, his fingers numb and shaking as they fished the gloves back out of the coat. “I will give you this one victory, _mignonett_ e,” Philippe chuckled and closed in on Giacomo, rubbing his upper arms with both hands in a gestural attempt to warm him up. “Come, get back on the sleigh.” “But -” “You are freezing and soaked through, mon ange, I do not want you to catch your death out here.”

Giacomo did not provide further resistance, he was cold and wet and thankful when Philippe, who had sat down beside him and took his hands into his own to rub some warmth into them. “Your teeth are clattering. _Mon dieu_ , _mon trésor_ , why did you not say anything?”

“I-It i-is n-not s-so ba-ad.” He knew he must not sound too convincing, given his stuttering and unsteady voice and Philippe made a sound in the back of his throat that Giacomo could not assign. The frenchman put an arm over the blond‘s shoulders and pulled him closer, “I will tell the servants to run you a bath as soon as we get back, to bring you a hot drink if you desire one, alright mignonette?” “Y-yes,” Giacomo whispered and pulled up his nose again, leaning his head against Philippe, “t-thank you.”

“I will, however, smack your ass through the whole lot of my château if you should decide to get sick from this, _mon ange_. And I shall promise that you will definitely not like it.” “I-I will try no-ot to.” “That is the Giacomo I know,” Philippe whispered and pressed a kiss into Giacomo‘s hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clear up any confusion regarding the ages:  
> Friedrich - 52  
> Giacomo - 39  
> Philippe - 38  
> Achille - 35


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please mind the updated tags :-) 
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

It was the night after the sleigh ride, though it was closer to the early morning hours than nighttime when Giacomo was rougly pulled from his sleep by a brightly burning pain in his side and to the unnatural feeling of his body shaking without him being able to stop it. He gasped and jerked awake, groaning at the pain and only just managed to turn onto his side before he threw up onto the floor beside his bed. While he was no longer asleep he was not fully alert either, thus not noticing or taking into account that instead of bile it was blood he could taste in his mouth and he did not even wipe at his mouth as he rolled over onto his back, breathing heavily. The pain seemed to tenfold with every beath of his racing heart.

The darkness that crept up on him was too cold and dark to be inviting, but Giacomo neither could or wanted to fight against it. He drew in a few shuddering breath before he knew no more.

Philippe dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin and shot another look at the grandfather clock behind him. “You are not awaiting someone, are you,” Achille questioned, indirectly offering his leave if his cousin should desire it. “No, I am not. I am merely wondering about where Giacomo is, I had invited him to join us for breakfast and he had accepted.” “He did seem very tired, so maybe he is still asleep? I am sure that it is nothing he had done on purpose.” Philippe sighed resignedly and leaned back into his chair, reaching for his glass, “Probably, yes.”

He could not put his finger on what it was, but Philippe did not feel so good when he said it as an attempt to convince himself and Achille. There was... something nagging at the back of his lower consciousness and it annoyed him to no end that he just could not tell what it was.

“You have always been so caring, cousin, you should try not to work yourself up over such insignificant things.” “I am not working myself up,” Philippe snapped, “I had done nothing than looked out for a shared meal.”

“Right,” Achille drew out and cocked an eyebrow at him over the rim of his glass, clearing his throat as he sat it back down on the lavishly set-up table, “and you will definitely not be on your way to his chamber as soon as we are done here.” “My god, cousin, you surprise me from day to day. Maybe you should go into the card or palm reading business,” Philippe snarled, a biting undertone heavily lacing his voice. “It does sound appealing, now that I cannot be burned at stake for it. Or is that what you wish to bring upon me?”

Achille knew very well that Philippe could not stay mad at him for long, and their eyes met when they both snorted. “Actually...” “I would be lying if I said that I am not deeply hurt,” the blond frenchman smirked and shook his head, raising from his chair and walk over to the mirror to check his appearance in the venetian glass. He turned on his heels, joked “Those are the wounds than will never heal,” and strutted past Philippe. “You are already leaving?” “Do not try to act as if you do not want to go and see him,” Achille chirped with a sing-sang voice and let the door fall close behind him.

Philippe continued to sit at the table for a couple more minutes, hands playing with the napkin. His behaviour was utterly pathetic, even to him. He was acting like a mother hen, which he, indifferent to what triggered those instincts, knew. While it seemed that the Italian‘s usage of powders had decreased while his intake of had increased since he had regained contact with Friedrich, Giacomo was still too thin and pale for Philippe‘s liking.

The frenchman began to wonder if the evening out in the cold may not had been such a good idea after all, the way it had appeared to have drained the energy from the blond. He remembered that Giacomo had told him once, during a game of cards in the salon, that he and his family ususally always travelled south as soon as winter would break in and that it hab been maybe the third of fourth time, here at Saint-Cloud, that the Italian had seen snow.

A part of Philippe‘s over the top concern for Giacomo was probably another result of the guilt about the incident with Friedrich he still carried around, the guilt about the pain it had resulted in for the man he loved.

He groaned and drove both hands over his face in a rough motion, glad that he yet had to powder himself. One‘s mind could be a tricky subject and his was currently doing an excellent job at exaggerating little things into enormous ones. Yes, Philippe would go and check on Giacomo so that his mind would finally be able to concentrate its capacity back to the duties the French needed to take care of. And, he knew that also, so that Giacomo would be once again reminded of how much he cared for him. Philippe stood from the table, thus signaling the manservants that waited in the back of the room that they could start to clean up and took his time powdering his face, renouncing blush, and brushing his hair yet again prior to taking his cane out of its rack and leaving his chamber.

Giacomo‘s rooms were still the ones Philippe had ensured him to obtain even before they had even arrived at Saint-Cloud, they were close to his and nothing less than what the Italian deserved.

Philippe knocked twice and held his breath somewhat as he awaited an answer, but none came and he was taken aback at that. Well, Giacomo could be still sleeping like Achille had suggested it but it was already quarter past ten and the prior day‘s evening had not been that late. Twelve hours of sleep were a bit excessive in Philippe‘s opinion. He knocked again, harder this time, “Giacomo? _Mon ange_ , it is me. I am not mad at you missing out on our arrangement for breakfast, do not worry.” Nothing.

He did not know wether he should be mad or worried, his knocking had been loud enough to wake him - Philippe had experienced it once or twice himself and it was all but a pleasant wake up call. His mood turned slightly sour when he wondered if maybe Giacomo was already out and about and just had decided to not join him for breakfast, and Philippe‘s lips tugged into a thin line as he turned to stagger off.

Later on, he would often wonder about what would have happened if his ears had not been sharp enough to caugh the choking and groaning sound that came out of the room he had believed to be empty. He was back at the door with one long stride and pressed his ear against it, the blood was rushing in his ear loudly from the jackhammer‘s beat against his chest and yet he could clearly hear those worrying sounds. He did not bother with knocking a third time before he turned the knob and threw it open.

What he was presented with made his head spin and had him sway on his feet.

Giacomo was curled onto his side, facing Philippe, his skin a tone that matched the sheets of the bed and probably the snow, too. He was not sleeping, that the French could tell in an instant, as the blond was mumbling unintelligibly with his eyes only closed halfway. But the scariest thing was... all the blood. Giacomo must have thrown it up as it had curdled in a messy puddle on the floor beside the bed and messied both the bedspread, pillow and the blanket that he had kicked down to his calves.

There was blood, dark blood on his nightshirt, too, that had turned almost transparent from the sweat that made it stick to Giacomo‘s upper body like a second skin. It looked like a murder scene, as there, of course, was blood all over his hands and around his mouth, too.

It took Philippe a long moment to somewhat snap back out of the initial shock, “ _Mignonette_ ,” he cried out and carelessly let his cane fall to the floor, stumbling over to Giacomo with unsteady legs. “ _Mon dieu_ , what happened to you? Giacomo!” The French did not care for the blood on the blond‘s cheeks and around his mouth, for he still cupped his face after turning him over onto his back. “Giacomo, please!” The only reaction that came from the sprawled-out man was another gurgle that brought a new surge of blood past those chapped lips and the shuddered, utterly exhausted intake of breath that followed frightened Philippe into the very marrow of his bones.

“Guards! Guards!” He yelled, cringing inwardly when he sat down onto the mattress and felt something moist and warm wet through the fabric of his trousers. Philippe tried to blend out that it was blood, Giacomo‘s blood. “Guards!” His head whipped around when his yells had finally been heard and the pair of guards that were assigned to this part of the château appeared on the swell of the door, slightly out of breath.

“What on earth happened here,” Philippe‘s voice was shrill from trepidation and he looked back down at Giacomo, hands still cradling the Italian‘s face. He was burning up and hot to the touch, which was anything but a good sign.

“We do not know, Sire. There was nothing reported to us from the night watch.”

“Then what are you standing around so uselessly for? Get the doctor,” Philippe reciprocated, cursing something inaudible under his breath. “What are you waiting for? Go now! Tell him that it is most urgent.” He could hear them running off without closing the door again. “ _Mignonette_ ,” he whispered pleadingly, shaking Giacomo‘s head with a gentle force. His vision began to be impared by stubborn tears that just would not back down and he let an undeniable sob as he bend over to put the pillow back under Giacomo‘s head, hoping that it would make his breathing easier.

A million different thoughts were running through his head - _was it poison? What if it was poison? What if it was a sickness? What... oh god, what if he was dying right here and then under Philippe‘s hands?_ “Giacomo, please,” he shook him again, but again gained nothing but low-throated groan. “Giacomo.”

Giacomo was still floating through the space of cold and uninviting darkness. He was in pain, so much he knew even if the concept of thinking was something he could not grasp in that state, unable to decipher anything but the burning pain. But then there was a sound that disturbed the overwhelming silence that he had been under - someone, or something, was calling his name over and over again and it ecchoed through to him. He tried to run or swim through the nothing to where the sound came from, he tried and tried but instead of moving forward something held and dragged him back until there once again was nothing but silence.

The longer Philippe was looking at Giacomo, the worse of a shape the blond appeared to be in. His eyes were still just barely opened and sunken back into their sockets, moving around rapidly while the rest of the body seemed to be slack like a rag and surrounded by an unnatural shade of grey. Philippe was far from a medic, but he knew that this was not how a healthy person was supposed to look like. He just did not understand, Giacomo had been healthy and happy and laughing when Philippe had last seen him the prior evening, he had never seen anything like it. “ _Mignonette_ ,” he sobbed and held the back of one hand to his mouth, “please... come on...”

“Word has been send to Paris, Sire,” one out-of-breath guard struggled to speak. Philippe had not even heard him coming. “He will be coming as soon as he gets the notification. It has been ordered.” The nobleman nodded, while he could not bear to look at Giacomo on one hand he could not pull his eyes away from him. Had Giacomo not been through enough already?

“What am I supposed to be doing with this, Sire?”

“With what,” Philippe snapped, short-tempered due to this whole situation.

“The letter from Potsdam, Sire.” He swallowed and answered back with a less biting tone, “Just leave it on the writing desk.” “Of course, Sire. I will bring the doctor to you once he arrived.” “Do not allow anyone to enter or linger in the corridor,” Philippe‘s voice was distant and different from his usually quite directing manner. “Of course, Sire.”

The worst thing about the whole situation, so much Philippe could after the short - or long - time, was no longer the blood that seemed to be everywhere, even in the light-colored curls of Giacomo‘s hair. No, it was not the blood. It were the so obviously pained moans and groans that he let out in the state of unconsciousness and if that was no display of how immense Giacomo‘s suffering was, Philippe did not know what else could be. It did not make the French feel any less helpless that he could to nothing but sit and wait and pray to God either.

No matter what Giacomo may have done in his prior days, there was just no thing on earth so bad that could result in a payback like that for the blond. He did not deserve it. Giacomo deserved anything but further pain and suffering and if Philippe would be offered with the choice to switch places with him, he would have done so without a second of hesitation whatsoever.

“Philippe,” the French did not answer when his cousin silently closed the door that had been standing open the whole time behind him, “I saw the guards running and could hear your yell.” Achille‘s grip on his cane was white-knuckled and his face had lost all its color from one second to another. “I do not know what happened cousin I - I merely went to see him and,” Philippe got choked up before he could finish, and he did not even try to keep the sob down as he gently brushed a strand of hair back from Giacomo‘s stark white face. Since he still had his back turned to Achille, he could not see how wide the other‘s eyes had grown as they were glued onto the clotted blood that had probably already stained the hardwood flooring beyond repair.

“Where is this coming from?”

Philippe finally turned around to look at the other in confusion, “What?”

“Where is the blood coming from,” Achille repeated, practically bellowed, and moved around the bed. “He is coughing it up I believe.” Philippe‘s eyes narrowed when Achille hastedly shoved Giacomo‘s nightshirt up to reveal his bare torso and let out a somewhat relieved intake of breath the younger had not been aware of holding in. “The only time I have seen that happen was when someone got shot and their lungs filled with blood -” “Well, he obviously has not been shot, “ Philippe hissed, closing his eyes momentarily. “Keep your mouth shut if you do not have anything useful to say.”

Achille knew that Philippe was using his words as the only ventile for the helplessness and overwhelmingness he must be experiencing currently, so instead of argueing he turned and disappeared into the bathroom to retrieve a bowl of water and two cloths. “We should clean him up,” he said, “I do not believe that he would like to be seen like this, even if it is the doctor.”

It took both frenchmen to be able to pull the ruined nightshirt off the unconscious man and it took them an even greater effort to put him into a fresh one, after they had finished cleaning the dried blood off his cheeks, lips and upper body with the cloths, since Giacomo could not sit up or move his arms when ordered to. “ _S'il te plaît va bien, oh mon Dieu s'il te plait réveille toi_ ,” Philippe repeated over and over again although he was very much aware that Giacomo was anything but okay and that his mantra could not wake him up. But why did he not wake up? Achille had just heaved the porcelain bowl up again and was halfway to the bathroom when finally, _finally_ the pair of guards re-appeared with the long awaited doctor in tow.

“The doctor, Sire.”

“I came as fast as I could, Sire, I apologize if it took too long.” Philippe stood and merely greeted the doctor with a nod, allowing him to get a closer look at Giacomo. “Would you please tell me what happened, Sire? With every detail.” “I do not know, I found him curled up and non responsive on the bed. He was bleeding from his mouth.” The doctor nodded as he listened and lifted up one of Giacomo‘s eyelids, then the other. Philippe had to look away, his stomach turning. “Which side had he been lying on, Sire?” “What?” “Which side, Sire. It is important.”

Philippe had to think about that for a moment. “It was his right, I am sure of it.” His pulse increased with each second the doctor worked in silence and he could not stand it, so he barked, “So?” The doctor straightened and pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose with an index finger, “I need to locate the source of the bleeding and it will hurt.”

“But he is already unconscious, is he not?”

“Well, yes and no, Sire. It appears that he is in so much pain that his brain decided to... hinder him from gaining his consciousness back to be able to endure it all.” “God,” Philippe murmured and swallowed hard, he felt like throwing up. “You will need to hold him down if you wish for me to continue my work, Sire. He will not like it.”

“Achille,” he called for his cousin, but it was most unnecessary as Achille had already hurried to Giacomo‘s far side and held him down with a hand to his chest. Philippe did it him alike and gave a sharp nodd to the doctor who nodded back and began to palpate Giacomo‘s stomach after moving both hands underneath his nightshirt, his palms working fast and skillfully. At first there came no reaction other than the constant groaning, but it turned into a steadily growing-in-volume whine the closer the doctor‘s hands got to the left side of his torso and Giacomo began to trash, much to Philippe‘s shock and surprise, when pressure closed in on the area Philippe suspected his stomach to be.

Instead of whining Giacomo screamed and it took Achille‘s and Philippe‘s combined strength to keep him down as the doctor moved his fingers directly over his stomach. Philippe stared straight ahead, his jaw clenched and tears once again rising into his eyes. He wanted to yell at the the man to stop hurting Giacomo, to push him away. But he knew it had to be done, there was no other way. Those were screams he knew he never would be able to forget and an eternity must had passed before the doctor finally stopped. Those were screams that probably had allerted the whole of the château but Philippe could not care less. “I need to do one more test before I can make a safe decision, Sire.” “What are the options you have to decide from,” Philippe rasped out, not looking at anything but Giacomo.

He had cried. Oh, it was such a hurtful sight so watch those long eyelashed stand dark with tears. Who cries if they are unconscious?

The doctor sighed, “Either a ruptured stomach resulting from a cancerous growth or a ruptured stomach ulcer.” Philippe thought his knees to go weak and he had to take unsure steps back until his back hit against a chest of drawers. “Yes,” the doctor continued, “both are not too good.” “Will he die?” Achille managed to speak out the question that stood in front of Philippe like a brick wall, the younger being able to keep his composure upright more easily given his military education. It took the doctor too long to answer and Philippe turned his back towards him, burrying his face in his hands and already over the edge of tears again, “No, nonono. God, no.”

“It is very hard to say, Sire. If it happens to be cancerous... there is nothing I could do for him. The damage would be beyond repair, Sire, and he has already lost a dangerous amount of blood. If it is cancerous, he will be pass in a few hours without regaining consciousness. The fever is worrysome, too.”

Philippe did not want to hear it since he simply could not believe what he was hearing. This was impossible. This was absolutely not happening. “No, no.” “You said that it could be an ulcer, too,” Achille whispered, blinking hard and giving his all so at least one would stay... himself. “Yes, Sire. If it is an ulcer that ruptured it most deciding of what a sort it is.” “There are differences?” “Indeed there are, Sire. Ulcers can be caused by either sickness or stress and if they should be caused by the latter, there is the most hope.” “S-Stress? He - he had been in a lot of stress b-but it was a couple of months ago,” Philippe stuttered and turned back around to face the doctor, watching as he poured something that looked like a salt into a bow and held it to Gaicomo‘s mouth. “An ulcer does not rupture right away and neither is it necessarilly felt prior to the rupture, Sire. They can linger for up to a year.”

“What are you doing now?” “I need some more of his - there we go.” Giacomo heaved up another surge of blood before the doctor could even complete his explanation, most of it running down into the bowl. A crackling foam arose as soon as the blood came in contact with what the bowl contained and the doctor eagerly nodded, his shoulders much less strained as he pulled back.

“The stress must have been immense, Sire, since I do believe it to be a result from it.”

Philippe let out a sound that resembled a sobbed laugh while the others in the room, Achille and the guards, sighed in relief. But he did not trust those news. “I beg you to be honest, will he die?” “We will have to wait, Sire, but right now I believe the odds to be in his favor.” “When will he wake then?” “That I cannot say, Sire, it is what I am concerned most with, together with the loss of blood.” “What if he does not wake? If he stays like this?” “Philippe -” “No,” Philippe snapped at Achille, “I need to know.”

“You will need to provide him with nutrients, Sire, preferably thinned-down broth or soup that is neither cold nor hot so it does not irritate his stomach. If the fever should not lower or if he should not wake within a week, it would mean that there was damage to his brain due to the loss of blood and we will have to talk about options -” “It will not happen, he will wake,” the curly-haired frenchman cut the doctor off, trying to convince everyone in the room of it. Including himself. “This is a mild pain remedy that shall be used as much as it is needed, Sire. Double the dose if you wish fro a stronger effect.” Philippe made a motion to take the vial, but Achille slipped between him and the doctor to accept it. “How often may it be used?” “Like I said, Sire, as often as it is required. It cannot do him any harm.”

“Thank you for your service.”

“It is an honor, Sire. I can always be reached if there shall be further problems.”

“I have one more question, doctor,” Philippe said, just as the doctor was almost out of the door. He swallowed hard when the chatter of “Of course, Sire. What is it?” “Is it possible that... something we have done may have caused the rupture?” The doctor blinked a couple of times and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, a motion that Philippe found incredibly annoying in an inexplicable way. “That would depend on what you have done, Sire.” “Ehm...,” Philippe shot a quick gaze and Achille before he answered, “a game of snowball fight.” The doctor offered a reassuring smile, “No, Sire, that definitely could not have done it. Unless you elbowed him in the stomach a hundred time, that is.” “I would never do that.” “I do know that, Sire. You should not blame yourself, those are things that happen sometimes without any reason.”

“Yes, I fear that they do so.” “Good day, Sire.” The doctor closed the door behind him, and Philippe let out a breath he had unknowingly held in when the voices in the corridor were muffled to unintelligible murmurs. Achille suddenly sat into motion, striding through the room to pull back the curtains that had filled the room with a dimmed light and open the double-winged windows. The cold winter breeze made him shiver, but he could not longer stand the smell of blood and sickness that hung so heavily in the air.

“Stay with him, cousin. I will go and send them away.” “Thank you,” Philippe whispered, shrugging off his coat and carelessly draping it over the back of a random chair to sat back down at Giacomo‘s side. “Do not mention it.” Achille watched as Philippe returned to his initial position and cradled one of the Italian‘s hands between both of his to caress it.

His heart ached for both of them and he would have been lying if he said that he was not impressed by his cousin‘s effort in caring for Giacomo.

Philippe was incredibly glad when Achille left - it was nothing personal, he held no grudge against his cousin. He just did not want and could not stand to have anyone else around him at that time. “Come on, Giacomo,” he whispered against the knuckles of Giacomo‘s hand and pressed a haste kiss against them, “open your beautiful eyes for me, _mignonette_. You know how much I love to see them.” His pleading, of course, did go unheard and while a part of him was glad that the worst of the groans and moans had ebbed down and Giacomo had fallen silent, except for his irregulate and labored breathing, it was only harder for Philippe to withstand the whole thing.

He had been sitting at the breakfast table - what, an hour ago? He had been sitting there and had thought about what he and Giacomo could have been doing that day. They could have gone to the salon for a game of cards, Gaicomo often talked about how Philippe had turned him addictive, or for walk. They even could have decided to do what they had wanted to do since the first day at Saint-Cloud, to travel to Versailles to visit Philippe‘s older brother, the duc de Lorraine who stood under the Louis XV‘s service, and to accept the king‘s invitation that was still pending.

All those possible turns of the day and... something like this would not have crossed Philippe‘s mind in a thousand differend scenarios. “Do not worry, mon ange, I will take care of you.” His breath hitched when the fingers of the hand he was holding seemed to move a bit as if Giacomo was trying to tell him that he had heard him. But the man‘s eyes stayed close.

Philippe did not even consider if he should get up and get started on his duties. They could wait. He wanted to stay at Giacomo‘s side, to let him know that he was there. The guilty conscience about his role in Giacomo‘s life, the one that had since somewhat left him, was eating away at him all over again. While the doctor had said that no one or nothing but the ulcer was responsible for the state the blond was in, Philippe still loaded the guilt onto his shoulders. What kind of friend was he if he would be doing nothing but bringing pain onto Giacomo? If the ulcer had formed due to stress, the circle of guilt would once again closed at Philippe.

The ghost of a smile lit his face up momentarily when he mused how Giacomo would be reacting if he said those things out loudly. Oh, the Italian would probably scold him for an hour about how he could even think about saying those things about himself. Philippe would take a lifetime of scolding from Giacomo over the deathly silence that he had to listen to then. Nothing but the sound of the grandfather clock ticking, his own shuddered breathing and Giacomo‘s rasped breaths that Philippe tried to focus on. They were, after all, the only sings of life from him.

“Is there no change?” He cursed himself for flinching when Achille stood all so suddenly at his side. “Of course there is no change, you just left.” Achille eyed him with a narrowed gaze. “I left over three hours ago, cousin. Have you been doing nothing but sitting there the whole time?” Philippe blinked fast a couple of time, “Three hours?” “Yes.” “There is not anything else that I could be doing.” “Oh yes there is,” Achille snapped in a tone that reminded Philippe of his father and squeezed Philippe‘s shoulder. “You should eat and drink -” “I fear that I cannot stomach it, cousin -” “Please, just try it. What good could you be to him if you faint at his bedside.”

“Is it me,” Philippe changed the course of conversation, voice dropping low. He grew annoyed with himself and the tears that were prickling in the corners of his eyes, he had never been build so close to the waters. It was just one of his ‘usuallys‘ that were different when it came to Giacomo.

“I am sorry, cousin, but I do not know what you are talking about.”

“I... feel as if... all of this is happening because of me, because he decided to come and stay with me.” Instead of answering with his words, Achille simply smacked Philippe across the back of his head. Not very hard, but the message should have been clear. “It is a stupid thing to say and you know it. Now get up.” “Achille -” “Do you think that he would want you to punish yourself in such a self-destructive manner for something you did not do?” Philippe wanted to argue, but his mouth opened and closed without bringing anything out a couple of times. He knew Achille was right and so he only nodded, kissing Giacomo‘s hand before he reluctantly stood and made his way to the door.

Haltering with his hand already on the knob, Philippe threw a quick look over his shoulder and changed his course. He ignored Achille‘s questioning gaze as he picked up the letter the guard had left where Philippe had told him to leave it. “What are you doing?” Achille took a few steps towards him, he did not have to guess who had send the letter, but Philippe only looked at Giacomo as he opened the seal and unfolded the letter.

He did not know where the sudden urge to read it had come from, but he just had to do it.

“I do not think that it is right -” Achille stopped mid sentence and threw a hand into the air resignedly, shaking his head at his cousin‘s doing and turning back towards Giacomo. Since he had done so, he could not see how Philippe‘s eyes grew wide and his mouth stood agape when he hurried to read Friedrich‘s perfect hand writing. “God damn it,” he whispered, folded it close and almost threw it back onto the table before pinching the bridge of his nose. It this day could get any worse - “What is it now,” Achille casually asked, holding a cool cloth against Giacomo‘s forehead to lower the fever and looking at Philippe over his shoulder.

“He invited him.”

“Who, Friedrich?”

Philippe rolled his eyes, “No, the pope himself. Of course it is Friedrich! He invited him to his birthday celebration and _is eagerly awaiting his confirmation_ ,” he spat the last few words, voice thick with contempt.

“It will not take him long to notice that there are no letters coming.” “Yes, but if Giacomo is well tonight -” “Do not do this to yourself,” Achille whispered, “you know he will not be.” Philippe pressed his lips together, trying to keep the cold rush from creeping up to him. Deep down he knew that his cousin was right, but hope would be the last thing to die on him. _To die on you?_ , an unknown voice in the back of his head snarled, _Hope would not be the only thing to do so, would it not?_ He shuddered, “We will find a solution.”

“Yes, but Friedrich has to be notified either way.”

 _Either way_.

“I am aware of that.”

 _To die on him_.

The two frenchmen lingered in heavy and uncomfortable silence until Philippe‘s feet began walking, each step as exhausting as it would be in a meter of snow. “Notify me if there should be changes. I will be back shortly.” “I shall do so, cousin. You know I would have done so without you mentioning it.” “Yes, I know.” Philippe forced himself to not look at Giacomo again and he may have closed the door behind him with a greater force that he had wanted to use.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

Friedrich had never been anything close to a friend when it came to the Christmas holidays, but he yet had to experience a second year where he dreaded them as much as he had done in the 1764. No, he had not only dreaded the upcoming holidays but downright detested them the closer they moved in.

Philippe de Lorraine‘s letter had came exactly seven days after Friedrich had received the last of Giacomo‘s letters. He had been confused, a bit hurt and somewhat disappointed when day after day had passed without a word from the Italian. Friedrich had continued his streak, though, sometimes sending out two letters at once or mere hours apart and had tried to convince himself that he should cut Giacomo some slack - the younger man had mentioned in one of the letters, one which Friedrich had kept so self-evidently like every other, that he was hoping for him and Philippe to spend a couple of days at Versailles.

So maybe, Friedrich had though, it was the reason why Giacomo had not written him yet. But paper and ink was available at Versailles, too, or were they not? He had pushed this or any similar thought back down as soon as it had come up, scolding and reminding himself that he should be greatful for Giacomo to even having written him once. It was neither in his power nor his rights to lay down any claims over the other.

He had tried to not appear too exited or curious when Wilhelm, his valet, would show up every morning at eight like he had always done with the day‘s first load of mail and Friedrich also had to swallow back his disappointment when he was presented with nothing but official state letters, verdicts or audience requests. His mood had also not lightened by the prospect of the upcoming holidays - the feast of love. _Ha, as if_. At least his palace, his Sanssouci, would be spared the embarassment of candle decorated trees, horrible music and the equally horrible drawn-out hypocrisy of fairy tale believers that called themselves servants of an imaginary lord in the skies.

 _Friedrich_ _must had been about four, maybe five years old. A little boy as he had been, he had not been in a too happy of a mood since he knew that he had to spend the next two hours sitting still on the hard and uncomfortable wood of the church‘s bench. It had not been something a child_ _would look forward to._

_“Vati, why can I not go and play? I do not like church -” His father had smacked him across the face so hard that it had send the little boy to the floor with a pained cry, screaming for his mother in pure fear as the monster of his father had build up over him, fists clenched at his sides while his face stood red. “You cursed, useless child! God is above all -”_

Friedrich had involuntarily shuddered when his mind began to draw out what would have happened if his mother would not have stepped in between, the same way like she had always done. _The door had been thrown open so hard that it slammed against the wall, making little Friedrich cry even louder. “Have you lost your mind!” Sophia Dorothea had yelled, kneeling down to gather her son into her arms, not caring if the expensive sunday dress she wore was to be ruined. “The boy needs to learn -”_

_“He is but a child,” his mother had screamed, her own eyes tear-filled as she had held him on her lap, pressing his head against her chest with her hand covering little Friedrich‘s ear so he could not be scared by her yells. “How can you be so cruel!” The laugh Friedrich Wilhelm had let out was cold, cold enough to bring a shiver to everyone that could hear it._

_“I am cruel? My dearest wife, I am far from cruel. I just will not stand by and watch my poor excuse of a son and heir grown up to be an even poorer one. If it means that I have to beat him until he bleeds, then it is what God and my duties expect me to do.”_

_“You - you are crazy, you must have lost your sick mind,” Sophia Dorothea had muttered before she pushed little Friedrich‘s head back to be able to get a look at his wounded face. The side that Friedrich Wilhelm‘s hand had hit was already red and swollen, ruining the lovely children‘s face. Sophia Dorothea had practically curled herself around her son when Friedrich Wilhelm set into motion, but he merely walked past them and out of the room._

_Little Friedrich had whimpered and held onto his mother‘s dress even more, his tiny fists hurting from the effort. Sophia Dorothea whirled around to see if her husband really had closed the door and when she was sure that he had done so, she let out a shaky sigh. “He is gone, my darling. He cannot hurt you anymore.”_

Friedrich had not meant to let himself fall so deep into memories and had slapped his own cheek, or rather tapped it, to pull himself back to the then and there. Even if his aversion to anything related to religion would not had been as strong as it was - how could he even had dreamed about participating in a feast of love when the person he loved could, and probably had not wanted to be there to celebrate it at his side.

Friedrich had troubles believing that it had only been four months since he had last seen, or spoken to, Giacomo.

Those four months had dragged out so badly that they seemed longer than his time prior to having set his eyes on the blond for the first time. July 7, around four in the afternoon. Friedrich neither could, would or wanted to forget it, ever. That day had shown him that there was still hope for happiness in his life, the closer he was moving to the last third of it, maybe, hope of which he had lost all pieces before regaining some of them since he had build a steady bridge of contact with Giacomo.

The mill of his thoughts would run for hours and hours without stopping, always around Giacomo and, most importantly, the question if he had been thinking of Friedrich as much as the Friedrich had been thinking about him. He had known that the Italian was probably not doing so, and the corners of Friedrich‘s mouth would always twitch when the realization would came to him that Giacomo was having his fun with Delacroix, that dammned Philippe de Lorraine and any other at the court of Saint-Cloud. While Giacomo had not been obliged to tell Friedrich about the friendship that had since formed between him and the two frenchman he had fled from Potsdam with and while Friedrich had appreciated it - he had read it as a sign of trust - it would always bring raging jealousy up in him.

But he too had no right to be jealous.

He had not known if Giacomo had forgotten, in all the hustle and bustle the younger had experienced, about the downright disgusting and intrusive way Philippe had forced himself onto Giacomo. Friedrich most definitely had not done so.

So the week without active correspondance from France had passend and Friedrich‘s mood had gotten lifted to the clouds when Wilhelm finally showed up with the long and eagerly awaited letter in his study in the late afternoon hours of the last Sunday before Christmas eve. “Ah, Wilhelm,” Friedrich had chirped and looked up after putting down his pen, he had been working on a short poem that he had wanted to gift Giacomo with for Christmas on a short notice since his original gift had already been delivered due to de Lorraine‘s stupidity.

Wilhelm had passed the letter to him, “It did not come with the regular mail coach but a courier, Sire.” “A courier?” So it had to be urgend then, Friedrich hsd smiled. He had already began to imagine himself passing Giacomo‘s name on to the painter that had been hired to draw the place cards for his birthday celebration dinner. “Yes, Sire.” “Good, I have been awaiting it.” “Do you wish for me to stock the fire, Sire? It is burning low.” Friedrich had cleared his throat, brows narrowing for a quick moment before he had answered without moving his eyes, “Yes, yes do it please.” Wilhelm had walked over to the fireplace and put two more logs onto the low fire and leaving without another word, knowing that his king was not one for unnecessary chatting when he was working.

The crackle of the newly-stocked fire had stood loud in the room as Friedrich‘s eyes had continued to be glued to the envelope he held in his hands - it was not Giacomo that had had adressed the letter to him. He had known his handwriting, and this was not it. Friedrich had tried to calm the jackhammer‘s beat against the wall of his chest and turned the envelope around, finding it to be unsealed.

He had jolted and opened it, pulling out what it contained, which had been nothing put two folded pieces of expensive paper. Expensive, french paper. Friedrich had let out a long breath and unfolded the papers. The few lines had been written without direct address and any real effort.

_I am writing you to let you know that Giacomo has fallen ill. He was seen by the doctor and he does not know if Giacomo will make it, saying that it was an ulcer that ruptured and caused his health to deteriorate at a rapid speed. He is not awake and not responding to anyone, including me. We do not know if he will wake. He is in no pain thanks to medication. The doctor said that if he is to pass, he will do so in the next few days._

Shaking his head, Friedrich had read the note, which it was instead of a letter, over again, not believing that he really had just read what he believed to had read but when the realization of truth had hit him it had done so with all its force. Something imaginary had clasped down around his throat, making it impossible for Friedrich to breathe and he had jumped onto his feet so suddenly and carelessly that the chair toppled over backwards, and he had slammed the note down onto the tabletop before turning away, grasping at his hair with both of his hands.

He had not been able to think a sense making thought, his mind drained as if a plug had been pulled and Friedrich had not allowed himself for even consider those written words to be true, either. Maybe it had been a trick his tired mind had played on him? Friedrich had whirled back around and taken the couple of steps back to his desk, almost stumbling over the chair and onto the floor, to pull the second piece of paper behind the one he had read first. His knees had buckled, unable to keep him upright when what seemed to have been the weight of the world had come crashing down onto Friedrich‘s shoulders.

Friedrich had simply sank down, without noticing himself doing so, until his knees crashed hard against the wooden floor. The shot of pain that had went through his body he had not even felt, given the way his whole being had been concentrated on the very detailed sketch in front of him. There had been no room for mistakes that it could be anyone but Giacomo who had been depicted by an artist who had left no signature. It had been Giacomo, yes, but it had been other facts that had made stinging tears raise inexorably into Friedrich‘s eyes.

First of all, seeing him after all those months had made his heart burst and his soul hurt from the burn of longing, for another person, in its rawest form. On the other hand... this had not been what Friedrich had expected to see, no, if Giacomo‘s face had not been burned in front of his inner eye Friedrich would have tried to see someone else in the sketch. He had not expected to see the Italian‘s face fallen in such a manner with the healthy, but little, fat that he had carried gone, making the bones of his cheeks stand out. Bones that casted shadows, which the artist had drawn to match those who circled around closed eyes. It had only been on paper, but that had not made it any less heartbreaking for Friedrich to look at and if the note had not said that Giacomo was alive, still alive, he would have believed it to be a deathbed sketch.

He had seen many things in his lifetime, but this one had ranked on the first place of the most painful one. So much had been different from when Friedrich had last seen him but he only liked one - the hair. He had cringed at himself for even allowing that thought in, but Giacomo‘s hair had looked absolutely gorgeous, much longer than it had been in the summer and spread out around his pillowed head, most likely to prevent knots from forming, in a way that made him look like an angel.

But there had been no creases from laughter around Giacomo‘s closed eyes, which carried only shadows, nor were the corners of his mouth upturned like they had always seemed to be as if nature had formed them this way. It had been only a sketch with a pencil, that it was, but there had not been the smallest sign of life portrayed in it, not even in the slightly parted lips and especially not in the way the blanket had been tucked underneath his arms.

Friedrich had only realized that he had started to cry some time ago when a tear left his face to barely miss the corner of the sketch he had been holding, and he had gasped and roughly wiped at the wetness on his cheeks with his unoccupied hand. He had caughed when he was somewhat surprised by a sob he must had been holding back.

No, it had to be a lie. _Nononono_ , his mind had been yelling at him when Friedrich had blindly searched the top of the table for the written note, snatching it down after he had found it. He had blinked hard and cleared his throat, the hand that had been holding the note shaking as he read it again. And again, then a fourth time. _Ruptured stomach ulcer_. Friedrich had pressed the balls of his hands against his eyes hard enough to make himself see stars when he had being shaken by deep and heavy sobs coming from from the very core of body and soul.

He was losing Giacomo, and Friedrich had known it. Oh, how foolish he had been to be in a sour mood about receiving no letter from the younger man. While Friedrich had been worrying about that Giacomo had been dying, lingering in a state of unconsciousness and most surely in pain, even if Philippe de Lorraine had said that he was not. He would be losing the man he loved to the cruel fate of death and Friedrich‘s heart had shattered ultimately at the prospect that Giacomo would pass before he could see him one more time, touch him one more time. Without allowing Friedrich to properly apologize for all he had done wrong, not just via letter.

Giacomo had been dying so incredibly far away from him and yet so close to him. It was not right.

He had been too young, way too young to have to leave this world. Friedrich‘s eyes had moved up until they landed on Katte‘s portrait he had since moved away from its place over the shrine to the privacy of his study. It had no longer felt right to have it hang there when Giacomo‘s presence seemed to linger in the whole palace. Friedrich had not taken the painting down because he had wanted to hide Katte, he had not been able to do so for thirty years, no, but because he had wanted to have him even closer with him. With Giacomo, or rather after he had discovered Katte‘s portrait in the Italian‘s diary, the dreams about his long-lost love had stopped after Friedrich had experienced a very particular one.

_They had been walking over the same wildly grown meadow as they always did in his happy dreams, Katte‘s hand warm in his._

_“It does not do to linger on the past if the future presents itself.”_

_Katte would usually only speak words that he had in his life time, thus ones that Friedrich would remember, but those were not such. “My dearest Katte, what do you mean? I do not understand.” But Katte had only continued to hold his hand, his silence peaceful but Friedrich had desperately desired an answer. “Please.” Katte had stopped in his tracks and what a sight he had been with his hair blowing in the warm summer‘s breeze and his honey-colored eyes equally warm as they had looked at Friedrich._

_Everything had been so warm._

_“Listen closely, my Sanssouci,” Katte had taken both of Friedrich‘s hands into his and squeezed them, and Friedrich had not been able to tear his eyes away from him. He had been so beautiful, having aged not one day. “Are you listening?” Friedrich had only nodded._

_“You know that I loved you with all my heart, Fritz.” Katte‘s hands had still been squeezing his and Friedrich swallowed around the lump in his throat. But the summer‘s breeze had not turned cold. “I do know that.” Katte had nodded, “And you know that it is time for me to let you go, do you not?” “No, my love, do not leave me -”_

_“I will never leave you, my Sanssouci. But I believe that it is time for you to accept another.” “What -” Katte had tsked, put his face was still soft and without any sign of anger. “Fritz, you already know that he loves you. And you are falling in love with him, too.” The answer that had not come from Friedrich was an answer enough. “See?” Katte had kissed him long and it had been, just as the one in Küstrin, a kiss of farewell._

_“I cannot ever stop loving you, please do not leave me.”_

_“I will never leave you, but there is someone else that is there for you to love. Open your heart, Fritz, allow yourself to feel it.”_

_Then Katte had squeezed Friedrich‘s hands one last time before he had pulled away and walked away. “Katte!” Friedrich had known that he would be waking up soon, and the last thing he saw was Katte smiling at him from over his shoulder._

So yes, Friedrich had wanted to have Katte close to him after Giacomo had left. Katte had also been the one he had a portrait from and right there and then, when Friedrich had been broken down and kneeling on the floor, he had hated himself for ever allowing himself to wish for a portrait of Giacomo, too. The one he had been holding had not been what he had wanted to be presented with, it was not... how Friedrich had wanted to remember him. The pain in his heart had been overwhelming in the same way it had been in his cell at Küstrin.

But there had been anger, too, that had washed over him in a second wave. How did Giacomo dare to die on him? Not because he would die _on_ _Friedrich_ , because he would _die_ on Friedrich. Or so the king of Prussia had seen it, at least. Giacomo would die on him and would thus be continuing the curse that had been layed upon Friedrich, one that made the people he loved die and he had believed to be gone. Friedrich never would have expected it to be him, he never would have considered the possibility of Giacomo not returning to him because he would die. The longer Friedrich had thought about it the worse the pain had grown to be, clawing at his insides and threatening to smother him from within.

Not that he had cared, he would have greeted death with wide arms and like an old friend. What else had he left? Nobles, both ministers and courtiers, that had been ready to attack his throne as soon as one of the pillars it stood on would crack and show a sign of weakness? Yes, Friedrich still had his palace, his home. The idea of Sanssouci had been his dream of freedom, of warding off his father, and it had once been his heaven. What good would it be without someone Friedrich could share its glory with, having no one by his side that would spend summer‘s evenings and nighs roaming around the garden and the park with him, talking about the arts or everything and nothing at all? While Friedrich had been proven wrong in his assumption that he would never find happiness or love after Katte‘s tragic death, he had _known_ that there would not be another.

There could never be someone like Giacomo, who had given Friedrich all he had and so much more. His body, his attention. His love. And eventually, he would be giving his life for Friedrich, too, the latter had wanted to die himself as he, all of the sudden, could feel his Giacomo‘s throat under his fingers as they had closed around it in the drug-induced anger. Friedrich had clenched and stretched said hand through its tremor, sending the note it had held sailing onto the floor.

What if it would be the last of Giacomo‘s thoughts before he would slip into eternal sleep? Friedrich abusing him? That something inside of Friedrich had clenched even tighter and made him hunch over - oh, what a miserable wretch he was - and it took all the strenght he had left to pull himself back onto his feet by gripping the edge of the table, a single tear drop dangling from the very tip of his nose. It fell after Friedrich had shaken his head while trying to be somewhat able to think. Other than he had done with de Lorraine‘s note, he put the sketch down extra carefully over the letter he had been writing before Wilhelm had showed up.

Not even an hour had passed and yet Friedrich could not think of a time prior to knowing about Giacomo‘s... state. An hour ago he had been imagining how their reunion would happen and all of his hopes and dreams had since shattered beyond repair. “How can I ever forgive myself,” he had whispered, running the tip of his right index finger over the sketch‘s closed eyes, then over its nose before it had come to rest on those curved lips he had always loved. “I love you,” Friedrich had managed to bring out before he had gotten choked up, and his lips had been trembling as he pressed the back of an equally unsteady hand against them. “My god, my Giacomo, oh god...” _I would give all that I possess to bring you back, to keep you here_ , he had wanted to say, but he had not been able to bring the words over his tongue.

Friedrich had blinked hard, but every tear he would push out was replaced in an instant.

“I am so sorry.”

After he had managed to whisper that, a shudder had went through his body that somewhat straightened him and pushed him away from any emotion. Friedrich had taken a few steps back to pick the chair up and set it onto is legs, sitting down on it he had opened a drawer and heaved the official paperwork he had to finish that day onto the table while clearing his throat. He had known that he would eventually end up doing the same he had done after Katte‘s execution - throwing himself into his work since there, again, would be no one to pull him away from it and since work would be the only thing, besides drinking, that could silence the nagging voice in the back of his head, Friedrich would do just that.

He had made sure not to put the stack of files onto the sketch, which he folded and tucked it into the front pocket of his jacket with the mental note to tell Wilhelm to contact a frame maker, and picked the pen back up. So work it was. Friedrich had opened the first file - a verdict the military court had conclused on Friday, sentencing a young sergeant that had gotten caught... in the act with a rather well known, and married, noble man in Berlin to run the gauntlet five times trough a row of hundred men.

It was a death sentence, and not a really indirect one.

Friedrich had exhaled impulsively, his father had been dead for over twenty-four years and he yet had to demolish the remnants of his reign. With probably way more disdain than a king should have done it, Friedrich wrote an angry notice that he himself would rescind judgement and that he wished to see said sergeant personally. He slammed the file shut as soon as he had finished writing. Of course it had to be given to him on that day, Friedrich had thought when he pinched the bridge of his nose, where he was anything but his usual self.

Yes, Friedrich Wilhelm had been a truly bad person down to the smalled bone in his body. He had been curel and vile to everyone that surrounded them, well, except for the nobles that took care of his so beloved military but putting out a law to punish one man for the act when the other had so cleary participated? With all Friedrich had endured he never would have allowed to even consider punishing one for who they loved, but his father had been a maniac regarding both religion and his own military so Friedrich was not really surprised.

He had remembered Dorothea Elisabeth Ritter, a musical friend of his youth that his father had publically whipped six times because he had believed that Friedrich and her had been lovers. With all that Friedrich had went through he really could no longer be surprised by his father‘s cruelty.

Friedrich had bursted into another fit of cries and had burried his face in his hands. Who had he even tried to fool, not matter how hard he would have worked Friedrich never could have forgotten. “Mein Liebling,” he brought out between two harsh sobs, keeping his face hidden. “Giacomo, oh my Giacomo.” He had longed to do nothing else than to curl into a ball and hide away from everyone, including himself, to just be with his memories and the pain that was attached to them. But since he had not been able to do so he simply had continued to sit at his table with his face in his hands until the hour had turned late and Wilhelm knocked to remind Friedrich that it was time for his protocol-scheduled dinner with a handful of ministers.

“I neither have the time nor the appetite for it,” Friedrich had quickly opened an alibi file as he had granted the valet entrance and was acting as if he was burried in his word, “Tell them it is work, they will understand.” Wilhelm, however, must had been both blind and deaf to not notice his king‘s red-rimmed eyes and the unusual coarseness of his voice. “Is... everything alright with you, Sire?” Friedrich had stared at the file in front of him, answering after a few long moments, “Close the door.”

Wilhelm had done as he was told and returned to stand a few meters away from where Friedrich had been slumped rather than sitting at the desk. Worry had been visible on the valet‘s face, “Is there anything I can do for you, Sire -” “Giacomo will not be coming to the celebration of my birthday and what you can do for me is to keep this informtation from reaching the court.” Confused, Wilhelm had asked, “Monsieur Casanova will not be coming, Sire?” “No,” Friedrich had rasped out, tapping a clenched fist against the table top. “May I ask why he is not coming, Sire? From what you have told me there were no more obstacles standing -”

“He is dying.” Saying it out loud while someone else listened had done nothing but intensifying the pain, making it so much more real. Wilhelm had failed at keeping his jaw from falling. “I was notified of it earlier today.” “I apologize Sire, I had no idea...” Friedrich had half-heartedly raised a hand, “You could not have known, Wilhelm.” “I am sorry, Sire. About Monsieur Casanova.” “So am I.” “Is there anything that I can do for you, Sire,” Wilhelm had asked, unsure of how far he could go without possibly overstepping a line.

He had been Friedrich‘s valet for seventeen years and still had not had enough time to figure the world of his king‘s feelings out. Not that it had been his right per se, but it had not been easy for him to be able to do nothing than stand by and watch him suffer. “No. No, Wilhelm, there is nothing for you to do. There is nothing anyone could do,” Friedrich had spoken, his voice low and soft as if it had lost its ground, and once again bend over his files, having hoped that Wilhelm would get the hint. Wilhelm had taken the lack of further talking as his hint to leave which he had done.

Friedrich had pushed back his chair and stood as soon as the valet was gone, gathering the files up in a somewhat neat stack and place them back into their place in the drawer. His shoulder had slumped even more when had closed the drawer again and had shielded his eyes, trying to gain back some composure. He had not wanted to, but he had needed to. He knew he had to function, so Friedrich had forced himself to walk over to where de Lorraine‘s note was still lying on the floor, bending down with a sigh to pick and crumble it up before throwing it into the fireplace with an arch.

He had already regretted doing so when it caught fire and he had wanted to smack himself for not reading it one more time. Ot two, or maybe ten, until he would be able to remember every single one of that sly french bastard‘s words. How nice it would have been if those words and the knowledge they had contained could have been removed from Friedrich‘s mind as easily as the flames had devoured the paper.

Friedrich had not known what to do. He had spend the whole next day in bed, sending Wilhelm away every time he had tried to talk to him. It had not been hard for Friedrich to push away any signs of hunger or thirst as it all tasted like ash anyway. There had been this ache in his chest, it had been strong enough to threaten to destroy him and had made Friedrich want nothing but linger and give himself to his memories.

He had wished for just one more thing - that he would be able to, someday, be in his bed without feeling like there was a blond ghost beside him.

~

Before Friedrich had known it, Christmas as well as the year of 1764 had passed by. As much as he would have liked to he had not been able to entranche himself in the privacy of his rooms and had, rather reluctantly, participated in daily court life. He had been even more greatful that Elisabeth Christine had accepted her role as fullfilling the representative duties.

While he simply had not wanted to do them in the past, he then neither could nor wanted to do them then. After Giacomo. He had not received any further update on his situation but he also had not send a letter to Saint-Cloud asking about him so he did not know when the Italian had died and with that abeyance, the grief had seemingly trippled.

Friedrich had found himself unable to enjoy the arts, be it literature, music or poetry without immense guilt. It was not right that he had been able to do so still while Giacomo no longer could. He had often taken refuge in the park that had stood deserted and without any real beauty when the snow had melted away soon after the new year had started, and he had been able to spend hours on end, walking around it in circles leaned heavily onto his cane as if it had been the only thing that had kept Friedrich upright.

Despite the lack of beauty that could have been seen at first, he would find himself to be reminded fo Giacomo in the most random of things.

In the small brown sparrow that had landed on a branch near the spot Friedrich had been standing, for how long he had not know, and he had been so entrached by it that he just had to reach out for it. The bird, however, had been scared by the hand and flew off. Friedrich had swallowed and lowered his hand, clenching and unclenching it at his side and had mulishly continued to make his way.

In the sunrise he had watched from the window of his study after yet another sleepless night, it had colored the sky in bright pink and Friedrich had drawn in a sharp intake of breath when an image popped up in front of his inner eye, one that he had tried to surpress - Giacomo‘s face hovering above his as he had been riding him, skin flushed to that exact shade of pink, which soon had shifted into Giacomo blushing furiously as Friedrich had closed in on him in the temple seconds before they had kissed for the first time.

But what had reminded Friedrich the most out of all the birds and sunrises or heads of blond hair were the stars. Oh, the stars. Friedrich had deliberately risked being unable to work by staying up late every night, not that he had been able to rest and sleep anyway, opening up the double-winged window of his room and staring at the night sky with tired and burning eyes.

He would shiver from the cold breeze but otherwise had payed it no attention. Since he had not believed in neither heaven nor hell, he had hoped that Giacomo had made it to the stars the same way Friedrich knew Katte had gone to the sea and his sister to the flowers. It had been somewhat soothing to be able to look at anything other than the sketch he had frame and put on his nightstand when the longing to see Giacomo would become too much. He had never been religious and Friedrich had not turned towards it then, and yet would send up a prayer to no one in particular, praying that they would allow Giacomo be at peace and without pain.

“It must be nice, though I believe that you did not want to go so soon, did you not?” Friedrich had since fallen into a habit of greeting Giacomo every time he would pull the curtains aside and open the window. His breath had clouded over his mouth as he had leaned onto the windowsill and looked up at the stars in the same manner as he had done it for week.

The sharp pain in his heart had since somewhat ebbed down to rather constant throbbing that would bring a deeper pain with it. He would have liked to imagine that the blinking of there stars had been Giacomo‘s way of talking back to him, that he would be able to hear Friedrich. Friedrich swallowed hard to keep his tears down when the grandfather clock behind him stroke twelve, marking the turn of the 23rd of January to the 24th.

“It is not how I imagined us to start my birthday, mein Liebling, but I think that you already know. Do you not?” He had given in to the tears in the end, hoping that it would cleanse him and make the weight on his shoulders a bit lighter, the prospect of having to spend hours and hours being happy and cheerful and having countless toasts dedicated to his name while all he would be able to think about would be Giacomo, cold and stiff, lying in a casket and burried in the cold dirt. “I miss you so dearly, Giacomo.” Friedrich had since stopped to be embarassed about holding one-sided conversations. “And I am still so sorry that you had to...” he had swallowed, unable to speak it out. “You did not deserve it. It is me who should have gone, not you.”

Again, he had been rewarded with nothing but silence and the shining of the start, the light that had been there long before him and would continue to be after his time. “I cannot stay awake for longer. I am sorry, Giacomo. Good night. I love you.” Friedrich had pulled up his nose and wiped at his eyes with one while he had closed the window with the other hand, leaving the curtains pulled back so he would be able to look at the sky from his bed.

Wilhelm had pulled his night robe closer around himself and had stood waiting, breathing low, until he had been able hear the ruffling of blankets which were proof that Friedrich had indeed gotten into bed. He could rest if his king was resting, too. If Wilhelm had believed that Friedrich had not heard him walk away, he had been wrong. Friedrich had rolled onto his back with his pillow pressed against his face to prevent his cries from being audible.

“All hail to the king!” “All hail!” Glasses filled with Champagne were raised, “For the best of health and happiness for His Majesty!” The guests that had gathered in the ball room repeated and joyous laughter filled the air as they clinked glasses in toast to their king, the orchester starting a fast and equally happy tune. Friedrich forced himself to show a strained smile, drinking slow just so that he could keep his face down as he left the stage that had been put up. He somehow managed to smile until he had reached the end of the corridor the crowd had formed and nodded in aknowledge at the congratulations he received from left and right.

He exhaled shakingly when the crowd loosened up again and there where no longer two hundred or so pairs of eyes on him. He was tired, the whole day had been filled with audiences and official gift receivings and Friedrich was long ready to crawl back into bed and pity him and the situation he was in. His grief stood so boldly against the ongoing pompous celebrations he had planned himself, but with a much different background.

Friedrich knew that he never could have canceled, unless, of course, he would have been eager to spark another fire of rumors that would spread across Europe in no time. He practically burried himself in his world of thought the same way he would have done underneath a blanket and thus did not notice how to guards entered the ball room, walked over to his valet. One of them leaned forward so speak something into Wilhelm‘s ear that had the man‘s eyebrows pull together and he, together with the two guards, left in what seemed to be a bit of a hurry.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“He said that His Majesty is awaiting them.” Wilhelm was more than confused, the guest list had been checked and closed when found to be complete and he had not been noticed of any changes. “I believe that you searched him for weapons, then.” The guards shared a look before one answered, “We did not, Sire. Why should we do so?” “It is your duty to protect our king and yet you did not consider the possibility of him being send by an enemy as a thread to the security of His Majesty?” “We - we did not consider it. We apologize, Sire.”

Wilhelm tsked, it was not his job to teach the guards. “So,” he changed the topic, much to the younger men‘s relief, “do you know who he is?” This time the guard that walked in front of him took it onto him to answer as he pushed the entrance door open, “If he had mentioned his name it must have passed me, Sire. He did sound french, however.”

The three men walked over the court yard and towards a carriage that stood just beyond the gate until Wilhelm suddenly haltered. “French?” “I believe so, Sire. His accent could not be missed.” He merely raised and eyebrow and they walked on, stopping a few meters away from the carriage when its door was opened and Wilhelm clamped his hands behind his aback as the very much familiar man stepped out. It was Philippe de Lorraine, the ambassador that had spend over a year at Sanssouci.

The frenchman fixed his posture and looked at the palace longer and in a way that was not adequate, straightening his expensive looking waistcoat, “I cannot say that I am delighted to see it.” Wilhelm cleared his throat, “I do not mean to be impertinent, Monsieur, but what did we do to deserve your sudden appearance?”

Philippe snorted, “Sudden? The letter was send out over one and a half week ago.” “A letter?” Wilhelm cleared his throat when he realized that he had cut off the nobleman that was looking at him with a cocked eyebrow. “Yes, a letter. To accept the invitation of the king.” “I fear that it must have gotten lost as said letter never reached Sanssouci.” Philippe really had to give it his all to keep the snarky remark down and instead turned around to knock at the carriage‘s door once.

It was opened from the inside and a hand came out to grasp at the arm Philippe offered. “ _Viens_ , _mignonette_ , _tu vas bien_ ,” the French murmured and Wilhelm could hear himself gasp as Giacomo slowly took the steps out of the carriage. “Monsieur Casanova, I...” Wilhelm‘s tongue refused its service when the Italian gave him the smallest of a smile. “I am sorry for eavesdropping but I had been able to hear you two talking. It is a shame that the letter got lost, I believed the routs to be safe for stagecoaches.” “They usually are, Sire, and there was no raid that had been reported to His Majesty.”

Wilhelm would have made three crosses if there had been no one to see it, he was in utter disbelief. He truly could not believe it. “Are you planning on showing us inside anytime soon or are we supposed to catch our deaths out here in the cold?” Philippe could not have known how macabre his words were to Wilhelm and given the way Giacomo was looking, another minute would indeed be enough. “Yes, of course. If you would follow me please.” They walked back to the palace, one guard staying at the stagecoach until the manservants would come to retrieve Giacomo‘s and Philippe‘s belongings. The blond stayed close to Philippe, their arms locked, and since Giacomo had troubles breathing they were not able to keep up with the Prussian‘s fast pace.

Giacomo gasped silently when he realized where they were going to, he still knew the palace, and stopped in his track. “What is it, _mignonette_?” Wilhelm stopped, too, and looked over his shoulder, only then noticing the great distance between them and that the Italian was close to swaying on his feet. He looked absolutely exhausted. “Would it be alright for me to - to fix myself before... going in?” Philippe looked over at Wilhelm, clearly expecting an answer. “The rooms you have stayed in during your last stay are free, you may use them, Monsieur. Your belongings will be brough in shortly.” Giacomo nodded and whispered a “Thank you,” walking off and being followed by the remaining guard.

Wilhelm no longer could keep the question in, “What is this? I do not - no, forget it. What is this?” “What is what,” Philippe almost snarled and Wilhelm could understand Friedrich‘s disliked of the French. “Him coming here.” “I do not seem to get where you are going,” Philippe‘s voice was underlined by a somewhat low and dangerous tone, his eyes narrowed as they stared straight at the valet. “He had been invited and it is most logical that I would not let him travel alone in his state.”

“We thought him to be dead.”

Philppe had been able to hear Wilhelm well enough and he yet asked him to repeat it, spluttering and gesturing with his hands, “Who told him such lie? I will have him hanged for spreading such lies!” “You did send him a notice when Monsieur Casanova had fallen ill, did you not?” “ _Oui_ , I did,” Philippe hesitated momentarily, “and it is also right that there was not too much hope that he was going to make it.” “Why did you not write when he recovered?” “It is not as if there had been an answer to the first letter and since _sa Majesté_ did not bother to ask...”

“He believed him dead! He has been grieving ever since!” Wilhelm‘s voice was loud enough to eccho through the corridor, silencing both him and Philippe. “It has not been my intend to do so.” “I did not say that.” “Well, this is certainly not what I had hoped to arrive to. We should go.”

Philippe turned his mouth upwards into his typical smirk that had brought so many to his knees as Wilhelm opened the door, allowing the frenchman to enter before he did so himself. “Enjoy yourself, Monsieur.” Not missing the biting tone Philippe emerged into the crowd, pleased to see at least some familiar faces. “Philippe? Am I surprised to see you here,” a young man spoke after stepping into his path, thus stopping Philippe who cursed himself for not remembering this... gorgeous man‘s name. Black-haired and pale-skinned, dressed in expensive attire, he looked like Caravaggio‘s wet dream. And not only the artist's.

He could not believe that the name just would not come to him. Damn his existence. The young man seemed to notice his situation, as well as the slightest bit of color on his cheeks, and laughed, exposing the curve of his throat. “Do not worry, you were drunk completely off your head when you introduced yourself to me. My name is Henry.” Philippe grinned back at him, though his name did ring a bell, his grin only falling slightly when he spotted the person out of the corner of one eye. “If you would excuse me, Henry, there is an old friend I need to greet.” Philippe leaned forward and kissed Henry‘s cheek, drawing satisfaction when the younger man‘s breath hitched.

“I will see you later, make no mistake of it.” “If you say so,” the younger chirped and flashed him another grin and Philippe winked at him from over his shoulder, only allowing his face to be set in stone once Henry, his possible future object of affection, could not see it. Out of the fire and into the frying pain, then.

“Wilhelm - what is he doing here,” Friedrich snarled at his valet as low as he could, trying not to clench the glass he was holding too tight. “Monsieur de Lorraine just arrived, Sire.” “That damned bastard,” he spat with disgust, “intrusive as always.” Wilhelm had hoped that the frenchman would not dare to do so, but was proved in his... not fear, rather a general helplessness when Philippe walked straight over to them. “Your Majesty,” Phillipe silked and bowed in an over-the-top gesture, straightening his posture and blowing a curl off his face.

“Save it, Lorraine, we both know that you do not mean it.”

“ _Oui_ , that would be right. How is your birthday going?” Friedrich could not believe that he was talked to like an old friend. “You should watch your mouth, Sire,” Wilhem said, eyes switching to his king as he spoke again.

“He must have been so important to you,” he sounded... hurt in a way, and he moved his gaze away from Philippe. “Was? He still very much is.” Friedrich only blinked hard and fast a couple of times but did not answer, making the two other share a look. Philippe had no idea how he could possibly break the news to him but as it turned out, he had not think about that for more than a minute.

Because it did not take Friedrich longer to spot him the second Giacomo stepped into the ballroom and his knees turned weak, making him fear of losing his balance. Great, he had gone crazy, had started to see the ghost of Giacomo even outside of his dreams. He was truly losing it.

“Sire?” Wilhelm a gentle hand on his arm and Friedrich only looked at him for a second before his head whirled back around, prepared for the image of Giacomo to have blurred into another random blond. But it had not done so. Was it him? It had to be him, it must be him and Friedrich wondered momentarily if maybe he had died in his sleep and this would turn out to be his heaven. He was sure that he had forgotten how to breathe when he watched Giacomo, who moved through the room and greeted a few people here and then by offering an incredible exhausted smile.

Giacomo did not seem to have spotted him, of which Friedrich was not surprised. He had chosen the farthest outer edge of the crowd, after all. “It is him,” he rasped. “Oh, can you see him too? Tell me you are seeing him too.” “I am, Sire.” “And so am I,” Philippe added, a smile ghosting around his his lips when Friedrich tore his eyes away from Giacomo to look at the French. “How is this possible?” “It was but a great misunderstanding, I will explain it to you another time, Sire.”

Philippe never could have stayed angry at Friedrich, once Giacomo had woken from unconsciousness all he had been talking about was Friedrich and while he personally was unlikely to befriend the king of Prussia, he would try to act as nice as possible. For Giacomo. The love Friedrich had shared with the Italian in his letters had been so open, so raw. It had been love in its truest form, and Philippe knew.

And then, finally, after what seemed to be a lifetime, Giacomo‘s eyes met Friedrich‘s and as soon as they did both men were sure to be able to hear a buzzing in the air as if it had been charged. Friedrich absentmindedly passed his glass over to Wilhelm and walked through the crowd that once again began to seperate at the sight of the king and towards the man he had been prepared to never see again in this lifetime. Suddenly there was an empty space around them, everyone, of course, aware of what had happened between them that had made the Italian leave.

They stopped as they stood a few meters apart of each other and while Friedrich had seemingly forgot how to mere minutes ago, he was then breathing so heavily that it moved his whole body. It was Giacomo, his Giacomo... who was so familiar and yet so different. Pale, too pale for him, and so unhealthily thin, the faintest of blush on his cheeks the only thing that brought some life into him. But at the same time he looked so beautiful that Friedrich was ready to burst into tears right then and there, for everyone to see.

Let them talk, what did it matter to him.

Giacomo‘s hair was long, just as the sketch had shown it, and the way it hung unbound and curled at its end only finished off the angelic look. “Giacomo... is it really you?” They suddenly stood in front of each other and Friedrich reached out with an unsteady hand, much like he had done with the sparrow, to touch a curl of hair that hung past the younger man‘s chest. It did not fly away, of course it did not, but it also did not disappear. He could feel it, really feel its softness between his fingers. He could not believe it. Then it hammered into him - it was real, Giacomo was alive and he was _there_.

Friedrich did not know if Giacomo wanted him to, but he still closed the chasm between them with another step and wrapped his arms around the other, mindful not to do it too hard. The blond was so fragile, and he burried his face in this incredibly soft hair as he cradled Giacomo‘s head against his chest, the first tear rolling when he could feel a pair of arms creeping up to enclose him, too, hands holding onto the back of Friedrich‘s waistcoat.

The people around them kept mostly silent, but some awed or even clapped but neither Friedrich nor Giacomo payed them any mind. Friedrich lifted his head and sniffled as he gently pushed Giacomo‘s head back to be able to get a look at him, his hand carding through the blond hair over and over again. “Mein Liebling,” he cupped a hand against Gaicomo‘s cheek, feeling his heart bursting when the younger leaned into the touch, “I cannot believe it...” Giacomo‘s eyes were as tearfilled as Friedrich‘s were and the world around them came to a screeching halt when he raised onto his tip-toes to kiss him.

The buzzing in the air they shared exploded into fireworks and Friedrich would not have deepened the kiss if Giacomo would not have made the first move by wrapping his arms around his neck and if Friedrich had to chose only one piece of music to be the most beautiful one, it would be the sound Giacomo had let out when he had complied the younger man‘s wish.

It was just him and Giacomo.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

Both men were out of breath when they parted just enought to be able to properly breathe, and Friedrich took Giacomo‘s face into his hands to pull him close until their foreheads were touching, but drew his head back to get a look at the other with worry clearly written on his face when it did not take him long to realize that Giacomo was breathing a bit too hard.

“You are in pain.”

Giacomo, who had kept his eyes closed, opened them and looked up at Friedrich, “I am not -”

He disagreed with his own words when his side was tortured by a stinging pain, almost as if a knife had been pushed into it, and he winced, cursing himself under his breath for not being able to play it over. “Giacomo...” Friedrich‘s eyes searched for his and the hands that were cupping his face pressured him to look up and meet the older man‘s gaze. He kissed Giacomo‘s forehead, then put his arm around his back, hand comfortably resting on his waist, and set into motion, making sure that his hand kept away from the area that so obviously pained the younger.

Being so focused on leaving the room on the fasted route that he could take, Friedrich only noticed that there still was something wrong when Giacomo‘s breath had even sped up more rather than ebbed down, an observation followed by the cognition that Giacomo was limping, favoring his right over his left side.

Friedrich could have slapped himself and he stopped, right in the middle of the ballroom and halfway to the exit, still amongst the dancing and chatting crowd. “We could take a break, Liebling,” he spoke into the air next to Giacomo‘s ear, knowing that the younger man would prefer it if the others could not hear. Giacomo drew in a shaky intake of breath, “No, it is not necessary. I just want to be somewhere else, Friedrich.” And with you, he thought, but it went unsaid. Friedrich absentmindedly pulled his lower lip between his teeth and nodded.

“If you wish so,” he answered, he meant it, though the protectiveness that Giacomo triggered in him would have liked to call for a chair that the younger man could have sat and be carried on. But since it was not Giacomo‘s wish Friedrich would not do so. He would comply with every single one of his wishes, no matter what it would mean for himself.

When they continued to make their way, Friedrich, this time, also made sure that he walked at a moderate speed. He practically had been able to feel the tension fly off Giacomo‘s shoulder once the large, double-winged door that would lead to the ball room had fallen close behind them. They did not made the short way through the large hall that housed the grande escalier before Giacomo decided to wrap his arms around Friedrich and press his face into his chest. Friedrich usually would have made a comment about his dislike of such public display of affection, but right then, as he stood in the entrance hall of his Sanssouci with his Giacomo in his arms, he would have needed to be a crazy man to even think about making such comment.

If Friedrich would have been honest with himself, he would have admitted that it still had not sunken in yet, that he still carried the fear with him that it was about to turn out to be a dream after all and that he would eventually wake up to the prospect of having to spend the rest of his life without the Italian.

“I still cannot believe that you are here. Here with me.” He did not know if he had just thought or spoke it out loud into Giacomo‘s hair where he had his face hidden in, but since Giacomo gave a choked-up laugh and answered, though into his chest, it must had been the latter, “I wrote you a letter but your valet said that it must have gotten lost.”

“No letter just gets lost...” Friedrich mumbled, but he was, much to his surprise, heard again. “It is what I thought, too. But apparently it did get lost.” He pressed his face even more into the soft hair, taking in the smell that was so much of just... Giacomo, a smell that he loved and which he had missed so dearly, that it made him tear up and he squeezed his eyes shut. He decided against telling him that he believed him to have died, to be burried under cold dirt, to not risk the possibility of ruining the moment they had.

“I love you so much, Giacomo, so, so much. It has been hell without you.”

It was an understatement if Friedrich had ever used one and he smiled through his tears when he could hear Giacomo gasp before pulling back enough to look up at him. “And I am so sorry -” He was kissed again before he could finish his sentence, and Friedrich‘s hands were unsure where to rest at first, scared of causing Giacomo more physical pain that he was already in, until they found their place in the crooks of the younger man‘s neck, his thumbs caressing the soft skin over his cheek bones.

“Do not dare to start apologizing for something that was everything but in your fault,” Giacomo whispered against Friedrich‘s lips, kissing him once more, though much shorter, before sinking back down onto the heels of his feet from where he had raised onto the tip of his toes to be able to reach the other‘s face somewhat comfortably.

Friedrich‘s face split into a wide smile at Giacomo‘s words while a tear found its way down one of his cheeks, but he did not wipe it away as he motioned to take the other‘s hand into his. “May I?” The blond tsked, his own eyes suspiciously wet as he did what Friedrich had hesitated to do, interlocking their fingers. “You know that you do not have to ask, Friedrich.” “And you know that I hate to disagree with you.” Giacomo laughed out loud, an action which he regretted as soon as he had done it as it only intensified the stinging pain in his side and Friedrich did not miss the way his smile faltered for a quick second.

“You should rest, Liebling, it is not wise to not allow yourself to heal. Resting shall benefit you the most.” Giacomo sighed, he would have liked to argue but, “I fear that you are right.” “Why did you... burdened yourself with traveling in this condition? I can not imagine that the doctor agreed to it.” Giacomo tilted his head and his eyes seemed to search Friedrich‘s face for something that his words had not expressed. “Well, I did not exctly ask for a permission in the first place, Friedrich.”

“Of course you did not do so,” Friedrich smiled even though his heart was carrying a heavy burden, “you can make your own decisions independent from others.” The more they talked, the more he noticed how there was some sort of weight hanging above them and the conversation they held, replacing the no longer there lightness with which they had done so in the past.

“Good night, Friedrich.”

“Good night, Giacomo,” he whispered with a barely-there smile, continuing to stand on the same spot as he watched Giacomo walk through the hall and take the first few steps up the grande escalier with slow movements and his right hand cradled against his left side. Friedrich blinked had and forced himself to start walking, too, but rather than taking the same stair up to his privat chambers he decided to go en route for his study.

Just as Friedrich had walked past Giacomo and thus was not longer able to see him, the Italian called out his name from where he had barely made it to the middle of the escalier. Friedrich, again, forced himself, this time to a smile, and turned around with his hands locked behind his back, “Yes?” Other than his own, Giacomo‘s smile that he was greeted with was blinding and probably the biggest one that the younger man could have managed in his state of being, and Friedrich‘s vision got blurry from one second to another when he spotted the hand that reached out for him in an offer to take it, acting like a bridge between them over the distance.

“Giacomo...” “If I wanted to be parted from you I would have stayed in France. Please, Friedrich.” The king of Prussia feared that his heart would truly break through its cage of rips when he took a moment to process it, not aware that Giacomo could have read it as hesitation, and the hand was offered to him still. Friedrich did not allow it to leave his gaze as his legs moved on their own accord, snapping out of it when he came to stand on the step underneath the one Giacomo was standing on, taking the blond‘s hand just as carefully and gentle as if it was as breakable as the dried flower he kept in the drawer of his nightstand with the other letters he had received.

He, too, was at the perfect height for Giacomo to run the fingertips of his free hand over the deep creases on Friedrich‘s forehead, easing them out all so gently.

Friedrich would have liked to give himself to the moment, but his worry for the other was too great. “Come, let us not delay it any further. You must be exhausted, Liebling.” Giacomo did not argue when Friedrich took the lead, the use of his favorite pet name pushing him onto some sort of cloud. He had not realized how much he had missed to be called by it. They walked in silence, a comfortable one at that, as Friedrich simply drew his happiness from the fact that he was at Giacomo‘s side and Giacomo was too busy with keeping his eyelids from closing completely. He was utterly exhausted, but it had just come over him.

“How did you know where I was staying,” he whispered as he found himself standing in front of the room that Wilhelm had appointed him to. “Those are the rooms closest to mine, Liebling. No one usually stays in them. _Because there never has been another you here at Sanssouci._ Wilhelm does know it, too.” Friedrich answered as he opened the door and guided Giacomo inside with a gentle hand in the small of his back, closing it behind them.

Giacomo sighed wearily and ran both hands over his face before he began to undo the many buttons of his waistcoat, that accentuated the slimness that Friedrich believed to be unfitting for him, shrugged it off and somewhat neatly hanged it over the back of a decorative chair. Friedrich, unsure of what to do or even where to look at, shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other, keeping his eyes averted away from the blond. He could not expect the other to let him watch, not even in his wildest day dreams, and his cheeks tinted pink despite his hardest tries to prevent him from doing so when he could hear Giacomo pulling off his blouse over his head and letting his trousers his his ankles before he kicked them off, too.

The simple ruffling of clothes should not bring such color into Friedrich‘s face, that he knew, but he could not help it.

“My, you must be getting a kink in your neck from staring at the same spot like that.” His head whipped back around and his breath hitched when Giacomo was suddenly standing in front of him, dressed in nothing but a nightshirt, the stark whiteness of it only underlining the man‘s paleness. But it, this time, was not what Friedrich‘s attention was fixed upon - he was appreciating Giacomo‘s beauty. The blond truly looked like an angel, sent to him, a mere and definitely not deserving mortal.

“You are too quiet,” Giacomo went on and, when no reply from Friedrich came, turned around to walk over to the bed, flipping back the covers to be able to slide underneath them before flipping them back again. “You have changed, Friedrich.”

Friedrich no longer could keep his tears at bay and he broke into them with a sob. “Friedrich -”

“I thought you to have died. Oh god, Giacomo, an hour ago I was sure that you were dead.” Giacomo could not do but watch with slightly gaped lips as Friedrich practically broke down in front of his eyes from one moment to the other. “You what? Who gave you the idea?” “I - I - I just got the note stating that you had fallen ill and that was it.” Giacomo‘s heart was beating a jackhammer‘s beat against the wall of his chest at that, Philippe had told him that he had send word to Friedrich but since no answer or any other letter followed, neither to him or Philippe, both men had talked about the possibility of Friedrich having decided to cut him off.

The could not have been a more stupid thing that Giacomo could have believed in. “Come here,” he whispered, patting the free space on the mattress beside him. Friedrich wiped at his nose with the back of his hand and kicked his shoes off on the way to the bed, trying to regulate his breath, which was impossible given the way he was crying, when he climbed onto the mattress and sat down beside Giacomo, who sat proped up on a bunch of pillows. “I am sorry Friedrich, it had not been my intention to...” “I do know that,” Friedrich cut him off with a gentle voice, closing his eyes as he felt them filling all over again. He did not believe that they would ever stop. “I should have send a letter to y-you or the French, but I... just could not do so. I am so sorry, Giacomo.”

“Please, do not blame yourself,” Giacomo was still whispering and he drove the fingers of one hand through Friedrich‘s hair, messing up the curls that had been put into it so orderly, “it does not do any good.” “I had to accept that I would never be able to see you again and not that you are here I... I promise that I shall make up for everything that I ever did to wrong you.” Giacomo stopped caressing Friedrich‘s hair to pull out two pillows from underneath him, thus shifting into a more lying position, wincing when it put a strain onto his sore. “Sitting in that damned stagecoach surely did it no good,” he chuckled, though his attempt of lifting the mood did not work with the older man. “Are you in constant pain?” Friedrich asked, fearing that he already knew the answer. “I do not want to complain. It has been worse before, so I am greatful for how it is now."

Friedrich nodded slowly, wondering if Giacomo would be alright with him asking. He decided to go for it, “When did you wake?” Gaicomo played with the fabric of the covers between his fingers, “I woke after almost thirteen days. Philippe told me that the doctor did not know why it took me so long. I guess it is just how I am, complicated,” he snorted once, keeping his eyes on his hands. He had not missed how Friedrich‘s eyes had gone glassy and he could not bear to look at it, it made him feel guilty though he, at the same time, knew that it had not been his fault and that Friedrich would not like him to think of himself in that way.

Friedrich did not answer, his jaw clenched and unclenched as he, too, looked at Giacomo‘s hands. They were so thin... He lowered his head,“I am sorry that I could not be there with you.” Giacomo‘s eyes moved towards him, “Friedrich...,” already so confused by the display of emotions which he had not yet seen from Friedrich, in a sober state that is, that he did not know what to do.

“Friedrich,” he tried again, hearing himself gasp when he watched the tears making their ways down the older man‘s face. Friedrich, much like Giacomo, had seen better times, too, juding that he was paler than usual and carrying dark bags under his eyes. “I am sorry,” he merely said again, wiping at his face rather roughly and sitting up a bit straighter, “I did not mean to burden you with any more -” “Stop it,” Giacomo snapped, though his voice lacked the necessary bite that would have made it sound real, “please stop it."

 _You were right Friedrich, I cannot be close with you anymore. Please leave_ , it played in Friedrich‘s mind and he mentally prepared to receive just that. But it did not come. Instead, Giacomo flipped the covers back and, once more, patted the free space beside him. “Take of your jacket first or you will get too hot.” “Giacomo...” “I have forgiven you a long time ago Friedrich, and you know it. You should do so, too. Now come here. We both need it.”

Friedrich had gotten rid of his jacket before Giacomo had even finished speaking, though he held his breath as if fearing that the other would change his mind at any second. It was simply unbelievable how... good Giacomo was.

It was just one of many things the otherwise so secure king of Prussia could not fathom. Others were that Giacomo had survived, that he had fought with what had to be the strenght of a natural-born fighter even if it had almost eaten him up in the process. That he had gathered the little strength that he had left to travel to Sanssouci. And that Giacomo allowed him close to him, Friedrich never would have blamed him if he had preferred to keep some sort of safety distance between them.

Giacom did not change his mind, so Friedrich let his jacket fall carelessly to the floor and slowly lowered until the side of his face hit the softness of the pillow that Giacomo had layed out for him. They layed next to each other, so close and yet not touching. Friedrich made no attempt of trying to do so, like there was some sort of invisible barrier between them and he gasped when Giacomo, too, turned onto his side, and shuffled closer until he could hide his face in Friedrich‘s chest. “I love you.” Friedrich was hyperaware of the warm body pressed against his own and the gearwheels in his mind stopped turning at Giacomo‘s whispered words and when the younger man‘s arm came to rest wrapped around his waist, Friedrich pulled him closer, cupping the back of his head with one while caressing his back with the other.

He was surprised to hear Giacomo sniffle and wanted to back away, scared of having hurt him unintendedly, but the arm that was draped over him hindered him at doing so when the hand grabbed at the fabric of Friedrich‘s blouse. “Please do not leave me.” Friedrich carded his fingers through the silky hair as he kissed it again, but Giacomo continued before he had the chance to answer.” “Do not leave me, Friedrich. I cannot be without you.” Though those words were spoken into his chest, he still had been able to hear them just well enough.

“I shall never do so again, Liebling. I promise you that.”

~

Philippe tried not to be too nervous about what he did not even know he was nervous about. Complicated, yes, but he truly could not tell what it was that wronged him in such a way. “Do you think that they are alright, Sire?” Wilhelm asked, and Philippe knew that he had only asked the formality of ‘Sire‘ because they were in public and the frenchman would have allowed himself to grin scornfully if, yes, they had not been in public.

“I yet have to hear him cry out if that is what you mean,” Philippe answered and drank from his glass, allowing his eyes to roam around the room in hope to spot young Henry. His heart threatened to stop when Wilhelm spoke again, having moved closer to him, “I know that it was you.” He tried not to whip his head around too fast to look at the valet, though he had been unsuccessful at stopping his breath from hitching. “I - was what,” he asked, proud that his voice was only partly unsteady.

Wilhelm snorted humorlessly, “Do not play dumb, Lorraine. I have been knowing for a while that it has been you who drugged him. Is that why you are showing such compassion for Monsieur Casanova? Because of the guilt you carry for being responsible for it?” Philippe‘s nostrils flared, and he tried to keep the most of the bite away from his tone, “If I were you I would watch the way I would talk to me. I am -” “A poisoner? Guilty of attempting to possibly kill the king of Prussia? What good of a light would it shone on you brother, the king of France‘s right hand.” Philippe‘s chest was heaving and instead of answering, he turned his gaze away from Wilhelm, he could hear the blood rushing in his ears.

“How do you know?” “No longer denying it, are we? I have my sources.” Philippe clenched his jaw once, raising his glass to his lips, “I would not be standing here if it was a known fact, would I.” “His Majesty does not know yet, I am the only one who carries the knowledge of it.” Wilhelm tried not to pull satisfaction from the way the French‘s arrogant facade was practically crumbling in front of his eyes. It was just too good of a sight

Philippe‘s face was burning, two dark patches stood on his cheeks and he was fighting the urge to turn on his heels and flee. To say that he was not scared would have been a lie, he was very well aware that he could easily be beheaded for it. He blinked hard and cleared his throat. “When are you planning to notify him? There are... things that need to be done before I walk my last walk.” God. He cursed himself for feeling a prickle in the corners of his eyes, but he should have known that he would have to pay the price for it someday. At least Achille had continued his journey to Vienna rather than staying with him.

Wilhelm snorted, and he nudged Philippe with his elbow, “Come on boy, we both know that you will not walk the walk. Though punishment has follow such thoughtless actions.” “What do you have in mind, incarcerating me until I turn grey? I would actually not prefer that.” The valet seemed to contemplate before he spoke next, in an even lower voice, “Since it was a... boyish and irresponsible act, I think that equal punishment would be the best fit.” Philippe did not know what he meant by it and his confusion must had been showing on his face, causing something in Wilhelm‘s gaze to darken.

“Will you accept it?”

What other choice did Philippe have, really.

“ _Oui_.” “Good,” Wilhelm straightened with a smirk that the frenchman could not read, “I shall meet you at my study at twelve, Sire. You would be advised to not keep me waiting, for I will not hesitate to retrieve you with the help of guards and thus let everyone know. Are we in the clear?” Philippe would have liked to start an arguement about the way he was being spoken to - like a father would to with an unruly son, or a youth rather than the nobleman he was. “ _Oui_ , Sire.” “Alright then,” Wilhelm nodded sharply, though the shadow in his gaze still had not disappeared.

Sensing that the conversation had been ended by the valet, Philippe walked off to hide in the crowd and away from the eagle‘s eyes that watched him like its next prey, cursing under his breath. He had not asked where that damned man‘s source was located at, he ruled out that Giacomo had told him because there was just no way, or why he had decited not to report it to the king like his duty would have expected him to do. The ballroom was no longer as crowded as it had been when he had set foot into it, making him wonder how late it was. A look on his pocket watch showed that it was already quarter past eleven and that he thus had less than an hour before he would have to meet with the valet again.

Some of his worry however flew right off when he spotted what he had been looking for. Henry. He was talking to and laughing with a man that Philippe did not know, and the French was slightly taken aback by how young he seemed to be, still somewhat... boyish. Henry pulled away from his partner of conversation when his eyes caught sight of Philippe and swaggered over to him.

“You kept your promise,” he said, eyes roaming up and down the frenchman‘s body and he licked his lips, knowing that Philippe was watching him. “I like men who keep their promise.” Henry showed him a flashy grin, one that Philippe would have liked to wipe off with a nice and hard bite to his neck, but Philippe only kissed his cheek in greeting, though. Henry seemed to be something special, way more than just another quick fuck. “I do not mean to be rude, but how old are you?”

Henry still looked him straight into the eyes, “Seventeen.” Philippe tried not to gape, he had expected him to be young but not, well, young. “That is -” “I will turn eighteen soon, so do not worry about that old man.” They both laughed and Philippe would have liked to make a comment about being called ‘old‘, but he was surprised when he was kissed by Henry out of thin air, their tongues immediately dancing around each other and he somehow managed to put the glass he had been holding down onto a side table. Then able to grope at the younger man‘s ass Philippe did so without an ounce of shame, and Henry moaned his name into his mouth.

“We will have to wait until you are of age, _mon beau_.” Despite his relatively young age Henry did not lacked much of Philippe‘s heigh and he pulled away, still somewhat looking up at him. “What makes you think that I want you?” Oh, he was a tease too. Philippe was ready to fall for him right here and then and he bit his lip as he squeezed the good two handfull of ass harder, making Henry thrust forward so that his hard-on brushed against Philippe‘s. “You are anything but a good liar as it seems.”

They kissed again, all tongue and teeth, before Henry somewhat slithered out of the hold Philippe had on his eyes to take one of his hands into both of his, starting to pull him along. “Let us talk, then. Tell me everything I should know about you.” Philippe allowed Henry to lead them, and he could not do but keep his eyes hefted onto the ass in front of him, “Believe me, there is not much about me that could be of any interest to you. About you, however...” He could not resist to smack him once, and Henry giggled as he threw him a grin over his shoulder. At this moment Philippe knew that it would turn out to be interesting.

When they left the ball room and Henry once again turned around to face him, Philippe knew that there was a resemblance to someone he knew, though he could not put his finger onto it. He just knew that it was there. “Bless god that my uncle is no longer here to see us.” His eyes widened almost comically when he could suddenly see just where the resemblance was coming from. Of course. It could only be in his luck.

“What is your name,” Philippe breathed and his realization must have shown on his face as Henry‘s glee somewhat faded and his grin seemed to be more of a mask. “I already told you what my name was. Twice.” “Henry -” “Of Prussia,” the young man finished and Philippe nodded slowly, as if coming to terms with it. “Please do not let it stand in between... us or... whatever Philippe, I have been trying to hide it - hmpf!” He kissed Henry to silence him.

“As long as you are not the heir,” Philippe teased and Henry rolled his eyes, though his grin widened.

“I am not. Or, well, not yet at least.” Philippe raised an eyebrow, “Are you supposed to speak so openly about that?” Henry snorted, “It is no secret that my uncle does not like my oldest brother and he is not alone with that. He is thinking about changing the succession so that I can follow him instead of Friedrich Wilhelm.” “Let me get this straight,” Philippe smirked, too, and pulled the Henry close again by gently gripping his chin, “so you are both pretty and within the king‘s favor? Could you be any more perfect?”

Henry laughed, “You know that you cannot get me into bed for another... 26 days and yet you are trying to persuade me.” “I am doing no such thing,” Philippe said with fake dismay, “I am merely speaking the truth.” Henry blushed to en exquisite shade that Philippe instantly grew to like, pointing his lip as if to hide a grin, “I am mournfully sorry Philippe but I need to retrieve to bed, I have an early morning exercise.”

Philippe took his face into both hands and kissed him, neither ot the two men were eager for it to end as soon as it did. “Sleep well, I will see you tomorrow I believe?” “You can count on it. Good night!” Henry practically skipped down the corridor and around a corner and Philippe watched him go before running both hands over his face and turned to walk into the other direction. He knew he should not be doing so, that he should have known from Giacomo that falling too fast would do no good, but Philippe‘s mind began to draw out what would be if...yes, if he and Henry would become something. Oh, he would love to see the look on Friedrich‘s face at that. It was a ridiculous thought really as they practically just had met, but Henry was so sweet and utterly gorgeous... He shook his head, he had other things to worry about.

Checking his pocket watch he was surprised to see that he only had about a quarter hour until he would have to meet that damned valet in his study. What did a valet need a study for anyway? And what could he possibly want? Philippe did not know the answer to either of his questions and that did nothing to ease his nervousness.

If words about his act would spread... he did not want to think about that and instead continued to walk through the palace with long strides. He lectured himself to calm his pulse, it was already racing.

Really, what could that valet do? He was of nobility, and french at that too.

Wilhelm was already standing in front of the room when Philippe got there. “Monsieur de Lorraine.” “Sire,” Philippe nodded sharply, keeping his hands locked behind his back so the other could not see how they were clenched. “Let us bring it behind us then.” Wilhelm eyed him for a moment before he fished a key out of the pocket of his jacket and unlocked the door, stepping in first and holding it open for Philippe to enter and the frenchman‘s heart dropped the second he saw the single chair that had been pulled from the writing desk to stand in the middle of the room, a cloth draped over the back.

Suddenly, he knew exactly what Wilhelm had planned for him.

“You cannot be serious,” Philippe breathed and whirled around just in time to see him undo and rolling up the sleeves of his blouse. “I am sorry, but when did I give you the impression that I was not being serious?” The cold rush that went over him was immense and made every hair on his body raise up and Philippe had to give it his all to not back away a couple of steps when Wilhelm closed in on him to grab his chin. He did so much harder that Philippe had done with Henry minutes ago, tilting his head so he could get a look at the French, “The only service I am standing under is that of my king and while it is not my duty to protect him, I shall make sure that every attempt of harming him will be... punished.”

Philippe struggled to admit it to himself, but he was intimidated by Wilhelm. “How many?” His face was let go off, as it was the answer Wilhelm had wanted to get. “I believe twenty-five of the best to be adequate, or would you say so otherwise?” Philippe swallowed again, his throat had almost dried up completely. It would be a harsh punishment and he already pitied his future self. He walked over to the chair without being told to do so and motioned to bend over its back but Wilhelm grabbed him by the back of his waist coat just as he was about to. The valet tsked, “Come on boy, you know they go on the bare.”

Philippe breathed in deeply through his nose but complied to that, too, hands working on getting the fly of his britched opend and he pushed them, together with his undergarnments, down enough for them to lie directly under his cheeks. “Alright boy, over you go.” He got into position, thankful that Wilhelm could not see his face from where it was hidden behind a curtain of his hair and he almost bucked when his lower garnments were pulled down until they bunched around his knees.

The cane was tapped against his upsided and mournfully unprotected backside, making him flinch. “You will count them out loud and thank me for every single one. If you mess up or forget to count we will start over. Understood?” “Yes,” Philippe‘s voice got a bolder snapping tone that he had wanted it to have and he squeezed his eyes shut when his cheeks were tapped harder with the cane, hard enough to sting but not yet a real whip. “Yes, Sire.”

The first real hit with the cane followed close after, catching him across the middle of the fleshiest part of his ass and somewhat off guard. A perfectly parallel line of fire bloomed and Philippe could not hide the gasp as the burn set in, he truly had forgotten just what kind of bite the cane carried.

“One, thank you Sire.”

Wilhelm nodded, though the frenchman could not see, and tapped the cane on the spot he planned to hit next two times before he raised it and placed a second perfect line close underneath the first. “Two, thank you Sire.” He worked fast and skilled, the way he believed punishment canings were supposed to be done, and the first audible hitch of Phillipe‘s voice followed the fift stroke, which was the first one to reach his sit spots. “Fi-ive, thank you Sire.” “I do not know why you did it,” Wilhelm said, tapping the cane, “but I will find out, whether you decide to tell me of your motivation or not.” The sixth and seventh stroke followed in quick succession and Philippe had troubles to speak around the lump that had formed in his throat, “Six, s-seven, thank you Sire.”

The next two followed equally fast and when the tenth stroke crossed the prior ones, Philippe bucked and cried out, “Ten, thank you Sire!” He hurried to settle back down before Wilhelm would decide to give him any extra hits for getting out of position like his teacher had done it and while his eyes were already rimmed red, he was determined to not let any tear pass from them. He had no intention to show any weakness whatsoever infront of that man.

Wilhelm could not stop himself from smiling, now that the otherwise arrogant man was about to be slowly but steadily reduced to tears by him somehow made him a bit likeable. And he was no sadist, “You are doing good so far, boy, but I can tell that you have not been punished in a long time. Have you?” Philippe would have liked that he of course had not been punished in a long time as he was a grown man, but decided against it. “No, Sire,” he only whispered instead, his hand gribbing the chair‘s legs tightly.

God, it was so embarassing, having his backside beared and caned like a boy. The cane soon cut through the air again and hit him even lower, on the very top of his thighs and Philippe did not even try to keep the whine in his throat, “E-Eleven, thank you Si-ire.”

_Thwick, smack, whack._

“Tw-elve - thirteen - fo-urteen, thank you Sire.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot in a desperate attempt to find some relief. It was to no avail, and twin tears finally escaped down his face. Wilhelm must have sensed it and he stepped closer to put a hand onto his bath for just a second as if to offer comfort, “Eleven more, boy, continue to count them.” “Yes, Sire,” came the automatic answer and Philippe cried out the next number.

“Keep your voice down, boy, unless you wish to wake the whole wing.” He mewled and rougly wiped at his face with one hand, the sobs that had build up in his chest threatening to make him explode. He made the mistake of not apologizing, for which he was rewarded with three fast and even harder hits so low they reached closer to his knees than his ass. They were enough to push him over the edge and Philippe bucked once before he slumped over the back of the chair, his face almost touching the seat of the chair as his head hung low when he was being shaken by sobs.

“You forgot to count, boy.” He sobbed even louder, “I - I am so - sorry Sire,” he cried, overwhelmed by the fear of having to endure all that yet again, “I am s-sorry -” “Do you know where I stopped?” “Ni-ineteen, Sire?” “Good, boy.”

Philippe did not believe that he had ever been so thankful in all his life, “Tha-ank you, Sire.” Wilhelm smiled, raising the cane to continue his work. “You do not have to count the last ones, boy. Brace yourself.” As if he could have done so, because if Philippe had believed the pain to be already bad, he would have been wrong on all accords. Wilhelm placed all five criss-corssed over the welts that he had layed before and all Philippe could do was sob and kick one leg into the air. He still had not realized that it was over when he could hear Wilhelm walk off to place the cane back to where it belonged.

“You may stand.”

Sniffling, Philippe obeyed and another swell of tears raised into his eyes when he bend down to pull his trousers back up, almost crying out when the fabric scratched over the skin of his backside. He and Wilhelm than stood at each other and while they were almost at the same size, Philippe thought to be half of it. “We will no longer talk of it now that you received your punishment.” Philippe looked up at him with a wet face, “What?” “I know that your guilty conscience is punishing you enough already. Which is why you are so protective of Monsieur Casanova.” He swallowed and looked back down at the floor. “A caning as such is usually a punishment used on boys who do not listen to their fathers or teachers, but it is just as fitting for a nobleman who does not know his place.”

“Excuse me,” Philippe tried to bring his voice back to his usual tone but failed with a rasp. Wilhelm raised an eyebrow, “You heard me well enough, from now on I will be watching your every step and if you should act out in the slightest, you shall find yourself in here faster than you can blink.”

“You cannot do so,” Philippe took a couple of steps back to put space between him and Wilhelm, but his wrist had already been grabbed by the other and he was spun around. “Every,” _smack_ “single,” _smack_ “time,” _smack_. The French gasped, the smacks he received, albeit over the fabric of his trousers, were enough to spike the fire even more. “Is that,” _smack_ “clear to you?” He was released again and Philippe breathed heavily as he contemplained whether to rub at his backside or not, “Yes, Sire.”

“Good.”

~

Friedrich had not been surprise when it had not taken Giacomo‘s breathing long to even out, he had easily been able to tell how tired he had been. Having him sleeping against his chest and in his arms gave him time to think.

While he had realized by then that it was indeed real, Friedrich still could not fully believe it. If was as if he had been given a second chance with Giacomo, that someone had decided to send him to Friedrich for the latter to be able to undo his mistakes. Soft and warm huffs of air reached his skin through the fabric of his blouse and though his shoulder had since started to hurt from the not very comfortable position he was lying in, he did not allow himself to move and change it.

Friedrich did not want to disturb Giacomo, whose arm was still draped around him, holding onto him even in sleep and not that Friedrich had him by his side again, he questioned how he had been able to live through the four-something months.

Now that he was here, Friedrich felt complete again and he knew that Giacomo felt so, too.

They were one, having been pulled apart by the cruelty of fate and the actions of others, though Friedrich‘s heart would still pain every time he would re-live how Giacomo had begged him to stop and as if the latter had felt the memory, he stirred in his sleep. Friedrich quickly pulled him closer, hummed soothingly and kissed his temple. “Friedrich...” “Shh, Liebling, I am here,” he whispered, brushing his lips against the spot of Giacomo‘s skin he had just kissed and the younger settled back down, pressing his face into Friedrich‘s chest agan.

Yes, he thought, this was how he wanted to be for the rest of his life, simply lying there while Giacomo was sleeping in his arms. He would make sure that all Giacomo wanted he would get, even if it would meant for Friedrich to give his all.

He could not even bear the thought of ever being without him again.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

When Friedrich woke up the next morning, he found himself to be alone and in a bed that was not his.

He rolled onto his back from where he had been lying on his side, rubbing at his eyes with the balls of his hands until he suddenly sat up with a gasp. Giacomo - he was not there beside him. He was not there. Friedrich‘s breath hitched as he absentmindedly touched the ruffled-up covers on the other side of the bed, they were a clear proof that someone, Giacomo, had been sleeping underneath them. Or had he not? Friedrich grew annoyed with himself and he slapped his own forehead, this was getting ridiculous. He knew what he had seen and he knew that they had fallen asleep together, but yet the fear about it being simply not true had not left him.

“If you go on like that you will truly go crazy,” he somewhat snarled and swung his legs down the side of the bed, though he did not stand. “I am sorry, what did you say?” His head whirled around and a wide, relieved smile grew on his face when Giacomo‘s head appeared in the door of the en suite bathroom. “I did not catch it.” “Nothing, Liebling, I just thought out loud.”

Giacomo eyes him for a second before he disappeared again, and both Friedrich‘s mood and heart lightened even more when he could hear him hum a happy tune. This... was exactly what he had missed. It did not take long for Giacomo to finish whatever he had been doing in the bathroom and he re-appeared, wearing nothing but a silky robe that Friedrich had not seen before, and since it was quite warm the room, he did not lecture him to put on something warmer. “I did not wake you, did I? I tried to be as quiet as I could.” “No, Liebling, do not worry,” Friedrich was still smiling and he watched Giacomo past him and to where his suitcases had been put, squatting down to open one of them and search for something.

He could not tear his eyes away from him. Giacomo was still pale, of course he was, but at least the shadows under his eyes had been lightened by sleep. Friedrich watched his every move, how he threw his hair back over his shoulder and how he bounced a bit in his squatting position. Giacomo found what he had been looking for and raised, very well aware that he was being watched and it, slowly but steadily, brought a faint blush up to his face.

Friedrich was not able to look at anything but him, somewhat fearing that Giacomo would be gone once he would leave him out of his gaze, but he did do so once the younger man cleared his throat. Giacomo turned around so his back was facing Friedrich as he undid the robe and let it slide off his shoulders and, with a teasing slowness, down his body until it soundlessly landed on the floor. His self-confidence skyrocketed when Friedrich made a sound that was somewhere between a choked gasp and a moan.

“Are you still watching?”, Giacomo asked teasingly, putting on a show by running his hands through his hair and biting his lower lip as he waited for Friedrich to say something. “I... I am no longer looking, Giacomo.” He knew that it was a bit over the top, but he could not do but look back over his shoulder and at the older man with shiny eyes. If there was one good thing their separation had brough, it was that Giacomo was way more comfortable seducing other men. Not that he was eager to tell Friedrich about that, but it gave him some ground to work with. They looked at each other, and Friedrich was hyper aware of the hot surge that had shot through his body as Giacomo‘s eyes had met with his. He wanted him to look.

While Giacomo was thinner than the last time Friedrich had seen him, he was well formed and gorgeous in every meaning of the word. Beautiful, utterly beautiful and perfect in his very own way. Touching Giacomo, being able to feel the soft and unmarked skin, seemed to be Friedrich‘s ultimate goal for his lifetime at that moment and his heart was, once again, heavy when he, once again, realized what he had lost. Or had believed to have lost. His legs moved on their own accords, all he was focused on was the glimmer in Giacomo‘s eyes that was just like the one he had shown when he had been kneeling between Friedrich‘s spread legs, a look that had burned itself into Friedrich‘s brain. The enlarged pupils, the fire behind them - it was pure eroticism, and he could already feel the tale-telling heat in his lower stomach and nethers.

“Giacomo...” he breathed as he stood right in front of the younger man, not daring to touch him, his arms hanging at his sides. Being allowed to touch the Italian was a privileg that he would never think about claiming so self-evidently again. “It is okay, Friedrich,” Giacomo, who had since turned around, reached out to take the other‘s hands by their wrists and draw them closer towards him, “you are allowed to touch me.”

“But...” Friedrich was actually at a loss for words and air when Giacomo placed the palms of both of his hands flat against the naked skin of his chest. He could feel the other‘s heartbeat practically vibrating through him. “Why are you doing this?” Giacomo took a step closer into his space, not caring that he was naked while Friedrich was almost fully dressed, though his heart had somewhat skipped a beat in what he suspected to be fear of rejection. “Why am I doing what?” “This. To yourself,” Friedrich whispered, words which Giacomo had not expected, and moved his hands from where Giacomo had placed them over the so inviting skin.

He may be able to touch him, but he was out of his reach. “I pushed you away and I... I did it so selfishly. I _hurt_ you, Giacomo.” “Oh Friedrich.” He had not even realized that a tear had found its way down one cheek before Giacomo raised a hand to wipe it away. “What does it take for me to make you see that I forgave you a long time ago?” “It is not you -” “I love you, Friedrich. I love you so much.”

Friedrich thought to be surrounded by the brightest of light when he kissed Giacomo without a pinch of doubt and the younger held onto the front of his blouse with both hands. He did not know if he had ever experienced a kiss more erotic than the one they shared, with him fully dressed and Giacomo, his Giacomo, was at his most vulnerable. He burried one hand in Giacomo‘s hair while he ran the fingers of the other gently down the curve of his back and the moan the younger gave put something inside of Friedrich back together.

Claiming Giacomo‘s mouth with his tongue and a low-throated growl, it did not take him long to get into the dominant role that he had only take when it came to the younger and whispered “my Sanssouci” over and over when Giacomo eagerly accepted it. But he was still holding back, unsure of how far it would be acceptable for him to go. The blond answered his question before Friedrich had the chance to even speak it out, guiding the hand that had been resting in the small of his back onto his ass and pushing his hips backwards. “Touch me. _Please_.”

All doubts and hesitation flew right off Friedrich at the plea that was moaned into his mouth, and Giacomo squealed and laughed, wrapping his arms around Friedrich‘s neck as he was lifted with both of the older man‘s hands groping at his ass. He wrapped his legs around his hips, still laughing as he was kissed again. Since Giacomo was relatively light-weighed and the walk to the bed was a short one Friedrich actually managed to carry him until he could, carefully, place him on his back onto it. He pulled his creased blouse over his head as soon as his hands were free. Giacomo‘s pupils were still as wide as they had been before and it confused Friedrich, but only momentarily. He did not bother to ask about it. All he wanted to do was to _touch_.

Since he was somewhat physically unable to tear his eyes away from the naked and sprawled-out man in front of him, Friedrich struggled with the buttons of his trousers he had fallen asleep in last night. “Come on,” Giacomo whined impatiently, battering his eyelashes and - god, Friedrich had to squeeze himself through the fabric of said trousers to stop himself from coming - dragged his teeth over his lower lip. Forcing his eyes to leave the breath-taking sight, it did not take him long to finally open the fly, pushed his trousers and undergarnments down, rather roughly, until he could kick them off. Giacomo shuffled further onto the bed, leaned onto one elbow as he watched Friedrich with hungry eyes. He fisted his already flagged cock one, squeezing it at its base but his hand flew off when Friedrich raised an eyebrow at him.

Friedrich then, too, climbed onto the bed and positioned himself between Giacomo‘s angled and spread legs before he leaned over to kiss him again. “Do you have any -” The younger man already held a vial between his fingers, having pulled it out from where he kept it under his pillow out of habit, and offered it to him with a smirk, “Of course.” Friedrich took it while muttering something about “others” under his breath and popped it open. “Jealous? I am Giacomo Casanova, in case you have forgotten.” Friedrich would have liked to turn him over and slap him, which he guessed was what Giacomo wanted, too, but he did not do so. Hitting him... he cringed inwardly. No, he could not do so. Instead, he simply kissed him again.

“I will show you that there is no other like me,” Friedrich growled and dipped two fingers of his right hand into the oil, raising back up to sit between Giacomo‘s legs and circle his fingers over the other‘s puckered hole.

“Trust me, I already know that,” Giacomo whispered and Friedrich was taken so aback by his words and the wetness of Giacomo‘s eyes that he abandoned his task, pulling his fingers away, not caring that he ruined the bedspread when he crawled back up until his face was hovering right above the blond‘s. The heat of the moment was gone as fast as it had came up and the raw lust was replaced by the deep and unconditional love he carried for Giacomo. He swallowed hard when he saw the unmistakable tears swimming in those brown eyes, “Is there something wrong? Giacomo, Liebling, did I hurt you?”

“Nonono,” Giacomo rasped out and blinked fast to will his tears back down, clearing his throat, “you did not hurt me I just... I love you so much, Friedrich. So much.” “My Sanssouci,” Friedrich whispered against his lips between two kisses. “Do you want me to -” “Fuck me, please, I need to feel you.” “If you wish so,” he laughed and kissed him once more before he pulled back again to push in the first finger, allowing Giacomo to get used to the feeling before he pushed in with the second, scissoring them.

While he had missed the day‘s sunrise, Friedrich guessed that he had woken around nine, he did not mourn after it as he believed to be looking at it in that moment. The flush that had spread out across Giacomo‘s chest, neck and face was faint but exquisite and Friedrich could not fathom that he was so lucky as to see it again.

“You are so beautiful, Giacomo. My Sanssouci...” he whispered, fearing that louder spoken words would ruin the moment, and kissed Giacomo‘s cheek before he moved to kiss down the side of his neck, the middle of his chest and the soft skin right over his belly button. He did all that while he was still scissoring him, loosening up the muscle and making the blond writhing and circle his hips beneath him, and he placed small little pecks to his loins as he moved the tip of his fingers against Giacomo‘s prostate for the first time. It made the younger whine in the back of his throat and he tried to sink down further onto the digits, arching his back.

“Friedrich, please.” Friedrich caressed the sensitive skin of one of his thighs, biting down light enough to cause only the approach of pain. Giacomo threw his head back and moaned even louder, making him smile. So pain it was, still. “So impatient, Liebling?” “ _Please_.” Friedrich never would have been able to say no to him, even if he had wanted to, so he pulled his fingers out with an obscene squelch, earing a sound of protest, and poured a generous amount of oil into his palm to lube his cock with. It made him pant just as hard as Giacomo had been, he was close, which surprised him on one hand and did not do so on the other. It was Giacomo. His Giacomo. And so many things were different when it came to him. Friedrich aligned the head of his cock with the younger man‘s opening, their lips already at each other again as he slowly and steadily pushed in with one thrust, knowing that Giacomo could take it, until his hips layed smoothly against his ass.

When Friedrich pulled almost completely out only to push back in with one swift thrust and began to set into a steady rhythm, Giacomo sounded like he was close to sobbing, and Friedrich was almost overwhelmed by the display of emotions from him. “Oh god, oh _Friedrich_ -” He swallowed the younger man‘s cries with a breath-taling kiss and when he broke from it, there were tears on Giacomo‘s cheeks but his smile was wide and honest and so bright that it made Friedrich smile and tear up a bit, too.

The rhythm he had set into was a slow and sensual one rather than the heated fucking Friedrich had wanted to do prior to Giacomo‘s confession. “There are no words for how much I love you, Giacomo,” he whispered, “no words,” not managing to raise his voice higher, too overwhelmed by his feelings and the sensation of being inside him, the tightness and warmth that surrounding him making sure that he probably would not last longer than a few minutes.

It was everything that Friedrich could have ever dreamed off, and so much more. Giacomo was here, lying beneath him and moaning into the air next to his ear at every thrust of his hips while Friedrich gently sucked a bruise onto the skin close to his jaw, both knowing that it could not be hidden. He was scratching up and down Friedrich‘s back, leaving behind burning lines that spurted him on even more. “I love you, my Sanssouci,” was all he could say, all he managed to string together, “I love you, Liebling,” repeating it over and over again as his thrusts got more and more erratic. Because it was the only thing on his mind at that moment, the only thing he was feeling.

Love.

Giacomo came, even before Friedrich did, after a couple more thrusts against his prostate and Friedrich kissed him through it, continuing to fuck him as he rode out his orgasm. He followed the younger soon after and only pulled out after his cock had softened a bit, making sure that he did not collapse on top of Giacomo as it would probably hurt him and instead flopped down beside him. They were both covered in sweat and breathing heavily and their fingers had found themselves without neither Friedrich or Giacomo knowing, so they both snorted when they realized that they were already holding hands. “I would usually say that I am not one for the... softest of intercourses,” the blond chuckled, wiping at his forehead with the back of his free hand and Friedrich joined him in his laughter. “Usually, yes. But it was exactly how I wanted it to be, Liebling.”

“Me too.” “Come here,” Friedrich murmured and lifted his arm so that Giacomo could lie closer to him, his hair tickling Friedrich‘s nose as he put his head down onto his chest. “Have I told you that I absolutely adore your hair? It suits you very well.” Giacomo snorted and rubbed at his nose, “Thank you.” “You are most welcome, Liebling” Friedrich smiled, and the pair fell into comfortable silence after that. As it was still forenoon, the room was lit by the brightest light the winter‘s sun would bring and they both dozed in the sheer lightness of the moment. What room for conversation could there be?

They stayed in silence until Giacomo decided to break it, “Friedrich?”, he whispered, his head still resting on the older man‘s chest as he ran the tips of his fingers gently over the more raised scars present there. Friedrich‘s breath had hitched once Giacomo had began to do so, his scars, after all those years, were still incredibly sensitive, “Yes, Liebling?” “Do not ever forget that I love you.” His brows pulled together at the blond‘s unusal choice of words, “Why are you saying it like this? Giacomo... is there something wrong?” “N-no, I just - need something.”

Friedrich‘s throat dried up in an instant when he though to hear Giacomo sniffle and when the other slowly sat up, his mind racing around the question of what he had done when Giacomo got off the bed, picked up his discarded robe up from the floor and disappeared into the en suite bathroom, closing the door behind him and leaving Friedrich to be alone with his thoughts. Had it been something he said? Or had not said? If it would not have made him so nervous and downright scared he would have laughed the other‘s behaviour off, maybe title it as a post-orgasm-high‘s attics. But Friedrich could sense that there was something wrong, so he too got off the bed, merely bothered with putting on his trousers, and walked to where Giacomo had disappeared, trying to be as quiet as possible. He knew it was not right and he also knew that it was probably, no, definitely a violation of his privacy but Friedrich still held his breath as he tried to listen and make out what the other was doing behind the closed door.

It sounded like Giacomo was rumaging through something as far as Friedrich could tell, and he must have found what he had been looking for as there was... something slammed onto the marble surface of a stacker. His brows pulled together, what could be so important or necessary to keep in hiding that he was doing it in the bath - he only kept on wondering, however, until he heard Giacomo snort two times and cough immediately after. The cold wave that washed over him was brutal, and Friedrich opened the door so forcefully that it hit against the wall and made Giacomo flinch.

He had not even locked it behind him. As if he had hoped for Friedrich to follow him.

Friedrich spotted the open, misused snuffbox in an instant and he stared at it for a long moment before his eyes moved over to Giacomo, who was standing in the middle of the room, rather looking like a ghost of himself, shaking like a leaf and having wrapped his arms around his middle. Friedrich shook his head, “You are using?” It did make sense now that he thought of it, the unusal and over the top self-confidence, the eyes... “What do you care,” Giacomo whispered and turned around, closing in on the basin and heavily leaning over it with both hands holding onto the rim. “What do I care? _What_ do I _care_?” Friedrich did not realize how loud he had gotten and he stormed over to downright wipe the box off the stacker and onto the floor, breaking it and making the powder scatter on the tiles.

He had not noticed how Giacomo had flinched and visibly shrunk, and neither had he noticed how the younger was holding his hand over his nose and was trying to wash away the red specks in the basin. “ _What do I care?_ ” Friedrich yelled from the mixture of anger, confusion and utter shock he was experiencing. Giacomo had barely survived his illness and here he was, risking his life and health for what - a quick high? He was so focused on getting an answer that he, again, did not see the flinch Giacomo gave when he strode over to him and practically whirled him around by gripping his shoulder, hard.

“Friedrich, no -”

Friedrich exhaled abruptly and took a step back, “Giacomo...”, looking at him, but most importantly at the blood that was dripping from between his fingers, with wide eyes. Giacomo pulled his hand back, clearly not caring that it made the blood from his nose run in a thin streak down over his lips, and probably into his mouth, too “Yeah, what do you care?”, he yelled back, though his voice was much less steady than Friedrich‘s. “Why do you think I began using in the first place, hm? Oh yes, right, I forgot. Because you _care_ so much about me.” Giacomo coughed and turned back around to wash the blood off his hand in the water of the basin, cursing under his breath as he wiped at his face, too. Friedrich‘s mouth was hanging open as he stared at him, and he breathed heavily as he took another step back.

It was his fault. He would not argue about it, because deep down, he already knew it was the truth. He could have smacked himself for his stupidity, had he actually believed that Giacomo would forget what he had to go through and simply continue his life like before? He swallowed around the lump in his throat once, twice and contemplained what to do, Giacomo probably wanted him to go but Friedrich did not have the heart to do so.

“Giacomo, I did not mean to...” He was at a loss for words, and instead turned and opened one of the cabinets to pull out a cloth, slowly approaching Giacomo, and with him the basin, to soak it. “Just let me clean you, okay?” This time, however, Giacomo did not flinch, but allowed Friedrich to tip his head up with a finger under his chin. Friedrich could tell that it was no dangerous bleed as the flow of blood had gotten slow and thick and he used the cloth to wipe his face clean, it was not much but since it had ran freely it made for a much worse sight. “Why, Giacomo?” Friedrich whispered, cleaning the last of the blood off, “I thought you knew what they can do?”

“They... make you forget,” Giacomo rasped and swallowed with visible effort, “they make you stop thinking. It was everything I wanted.” Friedrich could not look at him directly any more, so he let go of his chin and backed away a bit. “They help you sleep, you know.” “Giacomo, I...” “They stop the nightmares.”

Of course he had nightmares, and Friedrich would have needed to be an utter idiot if he would have had any doubts about what those nightmares had been. About him, about what he had done. He could not say a word, his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. Giacomo seemingly had not expected him to answer, as he went on after a short pause. He was still shaking, “The French, they... it is normal for them to consume them. So I tried it and decided I liked it. I did not know that I would struggle to be without them one day.” “How often do you -” “I have not used since I fell ill and a bit before that but I... did not sleep too good tonight. I am sorry, Friedrich, you should not have to bothered with that -”

Friedrich hesitated, but only for a short second, before he pulled Giacomo into an embrace, holding him close as if his arms around him could stop his body from shaking.

“I had no idea,” he whispered into Giacomo‘s hair, he would have liked to cry but while the tears build up inside of him, they did not come out. He had cried enough, probably, and neither was Giacomo. “Why did you not wake and tell me? About the nightmare, I mean.” The answer that came was spoken too low for him to be able to catch it, and Giacomo repeated it after being asked to do so, “Because I thought that I would be bothering you with it.” “Giacomo, Liebling,” Friedrich made him look up by cupping his face with both hands. Oh, how he wished the dullness those brown eyes could be replaced with the shine of joy again. “You are never bothering me, ever. Please, tell me about it if it should happen again.” “Friedrich...” “I will do everything in my power to help you. Do you understand?” Giacomo nodded, and Friedrich kissed his forehead before he drew him close again.

“You are not alright, are you,” it was no question, but rather a statement.

“We are not alright,” he was corrected by the younger, who shifted in his arms to be able to press the side of his face against the naked skin of his chest.

“No, we are not. But we will be, I promise you that.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pure self-indulgence smut with just a little plot but come on, the boys deserve some love :-)
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

Being alright was, as it turned out, not easy. Not that either Friedrich or Giacomo had expected it to be, really.

Friedrich had tried to be there for Giacomo as good as he possibly could, comforting the younger every time he would wake up from a nightmare with a cry and a tear-stained face. Which had happened daily, most certainly, increased by the withdrawal symptoms of the powder and why Friedrich had been somewhat disappointed by Giacomo‘s take to it at first, he had not been able find the heart to stay either mad or disappointed at him for long. He had understood him, surprised at himself for, sometimes, wondering about whether or not he would have taken onto them, too, if they had been offered to him in a time of dispair.

While, to him, it had seemed that he did nothing but comfort Giacomo it had helped him healing, too. With his blond in his arms, Friedrich had been able to get more than a handful of sleep at a time. Oh, there surely could be no greater happiness than waking up to Giacomo‘s hair tickling Friedrich‘s nose all so gently and the reassuring warmth of another body pressed against his. He had also made sure that he would spend more time with the younger man than he had done... before their time apart, both to ensure that Giacomo would not be too lonely since Philippe de Lorraine had left Sanssouci and Potsdam rather abruptly and the younger would not even consider taking back to the powder.

Friedrich and Giacomo would spend most of their day together, whether it had been Giacomo reading with a hand placed on Friedrich‘s thigh, caressing gently as the king had worked on his files or them reading together in Friedrich‘s privat library that he usually allowed no one to enter, not even his valet, if the weather had been too bad for them to enjoy a walk in either the garden or the park.

And there was, of course, the sex. Friedrich had not known if he should have been surprised by how often they did it as it was his Giacomo, but he had known for sure that he had been surprised by how much it had helped him. For the first two or so they had not made anything but love, slow and sensual with Friedrich making sure that he was extra careful, scared of... scaring Giacomo away from him in some way, their kisses sweet and Friedrich‘s hands always gentle if they had been upon the younger. He had been able to sense that Giacomo wanted more, that he wished to be treated rougher. Like before.

Friedrich, too, had been able to read the signs through which the younger had tried to tell him of his desires, how Giacomo would squirm and whine underneath him, how he would throw him cheek or wriggle his butt against Friedrich‘s groin, sometimes more and sometimes less obviously.

So with that hovering above their heads, Friedrich and Giacomo had moved around each other trying to find their place in this obscure constellation of terms. While Friedrich had not cared about terms in any way, as for him there could be no other than the Italian, he had begun to to suspect that at least some of Giacomo‘s tension had arose from him being dealt with under the hand rather than publically. Those who had been living at the court of Sanssouci knew that there was, or had been, something going on between them of course, but Friedrich had not adressed his relationship with his _“dear and very close friend”_ after his speech in the throne room.

When Giacomo had been squirming underneath him one night, body covered with a thin sheet of sweat and his eyes closed in the haze of the nearing orgasm, Friedrich had thrown all his prior doubts about making it official out of the window. He had drawn a long whine from the blond by bottoming out slowly and pushing in to the hilt even slower, making Giacomo‘s back arch beautifuly and stopping in his movement when his groin was tightly pressed against Giacomo‘s ass.

It had taken Giacomo a couple of seconds to realize what had happened and he had tried to get Friedrich to move again by pushing back impossibly further with a whine of, “Friedrich,” moaning and grasping at the fabric of the bedspread, “why did you stop?”

“I have been thinking, Liebling,” Friedrich had rolled his hips enough to make his cock brush further against Giacomo‘s prostate without pulling out, practically nailing the other down onto the bed. The sound Giacomo had made had been so full of need that Friedrich had to laugh, his hands still on the younger‘s hips where they had been raised by a pillow. He had ran a hand down Giacomo‘s spine, feeling the knobs, as he had spoken next, “I have been thinking about your birthday.” “My _what?_ Are you serious -” _Smack_. Friedrich had spanked Giacomo once, on one cheek, without even thinking about it, making a pale pink print in the shape of his hand appear on the unmarked skin. Giacomo seemed to have gone rigid, “I am so sorry Giacomo I did not mean to -” he had moaned and burried his face in the bed sheet or, well, as much as he could have done it.

Friedrich had not forgotten how much the Italian had liked to be spanked before, how willingly he always had rolled over and arched his back to give Friedrich a better space to work with, but after all that happened the older had been scared of hitting him, worrying that it might not be what Giacomo had wanted after all. That doubt, too, had flew off when Friedrich had spotted the blush that had been creeping up the younger man‘s neck, making the tip of his ears burn red.

He had chuckled, pulling out and thrusting back in once before stilling again, “Did you like that, brat?”. Friedrich had heard Giacomo mumble something under his breath, something that Friedrich would not have been able to catch even if it had not been Italian. He had spanked him again, on the other cheek and with far less strenght than he could have done, marking it with just the same blooming print of his hand. The sight of it, together with Giacomo clenching around his cock and the hitched moan had almost been enough to make Friedrich come right there and then. “I asked you a question, brat.” Giacomo had cursed again, though it had sounded needy rather than vicious and Friedrich‘s face had shown a grin almost from ear to ear when he had set into motion again, snapping his hips with more vigor and placing random smacks onto Giacomo‘s ass, alternating between both cheeks.

When Giacomo had not answered to his question, Friedrich had stilled again. “Come on, boy, I need to hear it,” he had whispered, caressing the pink skin on Giacomo‘s ass. How he had missed this. “Yes,” the younger had whispered back, looking over his shoulder and at him with shiny eyes and tinted cheeks, “I liked it. Oh Friedrich, please do it again.” “My Sanssouci...” Friedrich had began to fuck him in earnest, long and deep thrust which he had known would eventually push them both over the edge sooner rather than later. Giacomo had allowed his eyes to flutter close, feeling himself getting close with a rapid speed.

This was what he had missed. All the sex he had had at Saint-Cloud, be it rough or not, had only satisfied his body, not his soul. There just could be no other like Friedrich.

Friedrich‘s thrust had gotten more erradic, more desperate and when he had slapped Giacomo‘s smarting ass two more times, it send the blond over the edge almost in an instant. With a whimper of “I love you” Giacomo had came so hard it had made him see stars, allowing Friedrich to do it him alike by clenching with each pulse that went through him. The older man had collapsed onto his elbows and had whispered sweet words of love into the naked skin of Giacomo‘s shoulder as he had finished inside the other, pulling out once the most intense wave of his orgasm had passed by him. He had moved down on the bed until he had been staring directly at Giacomo‘s ass. Since the Italian had made great proecess in his healing, with the help of Friedrich‘s doctor and a streak of good meals, he had started to fill out once more, his ribs no longer standing out prominently in the sick way that they had been before.

To Friedrich, it had been as if he was watching a flower bloom. Fitting for the spring which he knew had been approaching fast and with a healing effect that no man could really explain. Having felt Friedrich move Giacomo had rested his cheek on top of his crossed arms to be able to watch him, still breathing heavily and his cock had not yet softened, though he had just finished. Friedrich had looked up to meet his gaze, not breaking away from it as he had leaned down to kiss each cheek, biting at one, though softly, when Giacomo had pressed up against the touches.

He had spanked him once, hard, and swiftly entered him with two fingers as he had not been able to resist the temptation of one last penetration. Giacomo had bucked and gasped, his walls had been sensitive and Friedrich seemed to have known every inch inside of him. “You are so responsive to my touches, my Sanssouci, it is amazing,” Friedrich had spoken against the sweaty skin in the small of Giacomo‘s back as he had pumped his fingers in and out. “Friedrich...”

“This is where you belong, Liebling, do you not?” The blond had blushed, but only slightly and instead of giving the verbal answer he had known Friedrich had wanted, he had only looked at him while dragging his lower lip through his teeth. Without having spoken it out, both men had known at that moment that they had gotten back to playing their game again and the fact that Giacomo wanted it would have made Friedrich cry out of happiness if he had not been so turned on. Again. “Oh, are you asking for it?” Giacomo had flashed him a toothy grin and Friedrich had to laugh out loud when he had wriggled his hips, too. Friedrich had known that Giacomo was his heart, through and through.

There had been no more doubts.

Friedrich had pulled his fingers out with an obscene squelch, had wiped them clean with the help of the bedspread that had been ruined anyway and had set into a slow rhythm of placing smacks, alternating in strength, all over the taunt globes that had been so eagerly offered to him and the sounds Giacomo had brough out had been everything to Friedrich. Soft mewls and gasps, low moans and whines whenever a harder hit had been delivered. The older had been holding back still, though, not wanting to overdo it right away.

He and Giacomo had started and had, temporarily, ended with a bang and he had wanted to prevent it from happening again. He had known that he could not lose him a second time as he would not survive it.

“My Sanssouci,” Friedrich had whispered, placing one last smack across both cheeks before he had stopped the assault to caress the skin that he had turned hot to the touch. Giacomo had been keening and panting, pushing his hips back to meet Friedrich‘s palm over and over again and Friedrich had doubted to ever having layed eyes upon a more beautiful piece of art than the skin of Giacomo‘s ass marked with the prints of his hand. “You like it a lot, Liebling, though you had not been to happy the first time I spanked you. Or were you?” That time Giacomo had answered, though it had only been a lowly whispered answer, “No”, eyes closed as he had simply enjoyed Friedrich‘s hand petting his throbbing ass, “but I do like it now. I like the pain.”

Friedrich had swallowed, he still had felt the need to ask even if it would eventually ruin their moment, “Even after...” Giacomo had raised onto his elbows and turned slightly to get a better look at him. “It was not you and as long as you do not use that belt on me again.” The younger‘s face had heated up when he had realized just what he had offered to Friedrich, who had catched the reference even faster than Giacomo had since he had stared at him with a mixture of surprise and amazement. “I - I meant -” Friedrich had leaned forward to capture his lips, the kiss lingering as the hand on Giacomo‘s ass squeezed the flesh.

“We could try... something else?” “Would you really do it,” Giacomo had whispered, his whole body somewhat burning with embarassment. He had wanted to wait with disclosing his desires since he had been very much aware that Friedrich had not made the best of experiences with corporal punishments. “I mean I - I know what your father has done to you and I would understand if you - ow!” Friedrich had cut him off with another smack and a growl of, “There is no comparison between what my father did to me and what we are doing.” “Thank you,” Giacomo had felt something bubble in his chest, he had known that he needed this, and he had kissed him again.

“However,” Friedrich‘s grip had tightened, “I would like to know how you came to like it.” He had already known that there had been others, as Philippe had so selflessy taken it upon himself to tell Friedrich about it along the lines of “you hurt him, not his sex drive” and while Friedrich had been incredibly jealous, he never would have directed those feelings at Giacomo. It was not as if he had been claimed then. “And I think that we shall have a little conversation about the powder as well, do you not think so, boy?” God, Giacomo had almost moaned from Friedrich‘s words again. He had not believed to ever hear something like this coming out of Friedrich‘s mouth and he had flapped back down quickly so that he could not see his grin of exitement.

“I want an answer, boy.” “Yes - ow! - yes,” Giacomo had drawn in a sharp take of breath when he had been smacked again. “Yes _what_?” _No_ _way_... “Yes, Sire.”

Pleased by that, Friedrich had nodded and climbed off from where he had been kneeling with Giacomo‘s stretched-out legs between his, pulling out the pillow from underneath Giacomo‘s waist and throwing it to the floor as it had been just as ruined as the bed spread. He had lied down on his beside his blond, lazily caressing the flushed skin on the younger man‘s face with gentle fingers. “I love you, Liebling.” “I love you too.”

And they had, just like that, shifted into place.

~

February had passed and Friedrich had since lost his restraint along the way, their love making having shifted over to fucking that had no longer been limited to the king‘s chamber. If Wilhelm had heard suspicious sounds from the throne room after one of Friedrich‘s concert, he had yet to mention it. Friedrich also had no further hesitation to spank Giacomo before, during and after sex, knowing that if would please the man he loved and he would have been lying if he would have said that it did not brought him pleasure, too, that resulted from both the power and the submission that such an act would bring with it.

They had not had their conversation yet as Friedrich had honestly forgotten about it and Giacomo, being sober Giacomo, had been too shy to ask for it.

March had brought longer hours and brighter day with it and while life had bloomed all around them in the form of early flowers, Giacomo had felt like there had been something else growing inside his mind, something dark that had the least right of being there as living in Sanssouci had been... yes, almost perfect. While he was with Friedrich, for which he had been utterly thankful, Giacomo had missed his friends.

Achille had been in Vienna, spending time with Joseph, but had promised that he would make a stop in Potsdam on his way back to France and Philippe was enjoying his time with young Prince Henry at Saint-Cloud. Not that Friedrich had been too happy when his nephew and possible future heir had confessed about his newly found love in the frenchman, but he never would have went in between them. He had known, after all, how it hurt to not be allowed to be with the one you love. _“But why did it have to be him, out of all the men?”_ Giacomo had still been able to hear Friedrich‘s voice from his hour-long rant in his head which the Italian had listened to with nods and hums of agreement.

Giacomo had been happy for Philippe, he really had been, happy that his friend had been moving on and it was not as if they had not been in constant contact, but he had missed having him around him. Philippe had always been someone he had been able to talk to. He had felt left out in a way and since Friedrich had not confirmed his social status at court, he had been something in between. Not that he had been treated as such, Giacomo had barely done anything but walk around, alone or with Friedrich, read, alone or with Friedrich, and wrote, both letters and literary pieces. The more hours he would spend in solitude the stronger his longing for the effects of the powder would grow. He had known that Friedrich downright despited it and Giacomo had felt a how rush going through him when he had found himself tempting to use again just the see what Friedrich would do.

Pathetic, really, and he had known it. Something a youth would to if they craved attention. He had a lot of attention payed to him and it was him who had told Friedrich to focuse more on his work again, not wanting to be a burden.

He had not wanted to be ungreatful.

He had eventually found a source for aquiring _it_ , surprised that it was just as cheap as it had been in France.

The moment Friedrich had set foot into the throne room, where his daily flute concert would take place, and his eyes had catched sight of Gaicomo, he had known that there had been something wrong with him. Giacomo had seemed to be unusually nervous, clutching his hands in his lap and avoiding to make the eye contact they would ususally hold. The question had been on Friedrich‘s mind during the whole concert and it hit him like a hammer when he catched Giacomo doing the small gesture that answered his question in a mere blink of the eye - the rub of his nose, tale-telling since it was only done with one finger and rather roughly.

Friedrich had almost stopped playing right then and there, wanting to do nothing more than to storm over to him and throw him over his lap, but he knew that he had to wait. Wait until the concert was over, wait until they could be in privacy. Friedrich actually cut the concert short by two pieces, though, waiting with his hands locked behind his back, so their clenching would go unnoticed, until every guest except Giacomo had left and until the chairs had been carried away by manservants. As soon as the door had been closed for the last time and they were alone, Friedrich closed in onto Giacomo and took him by his upper arm rather roughly. “Friedrich -” “Where is it?” Giacomo‘s reaction somewhat confused him, he obviously seemed to have been a but shocked by the outburst but the smile that had been there for a second told a completely different story.

“Where is what?” Friedrich tightened his hold, making Giacomo wince slightly. “You already earned yourself a trip over my knee, boy, and you would be wise to give it to me unless you are eager to get a taste of the cane too.” Giacomo gasped but otherwise did not provide any further arguement, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket to retireve a small snuff box. He placed it into the palm of the hand that Friedrich had been holding out. Friedrich watched him do so, swallowing, angry at himself for not noticing that Giacomo had obviously fallen back into wanting it. Were there nightmares that he knew nothing about though they had been sharing a bed since their reunion?

“Friedrich -”

“Do not try it, Giacomo.” Tears shot into Giacomo‘s eyes but Friedrich went on before the younger even had the chance to try. “Go find a corner and put your nose into it,” he spun him around and send him stumbling further into the room with a smack to his ass. “Wait there for me.” Giacomo hurried to obey, making his way through the room with his backside already tingling until he found a corner. His heart, somehow, was already easier as he stood himself into the corner, fists clenching from anticipation where his arms hung at his sides.

Friedrich knew he could not deal with him right away, so he stormed out of the room and paced around the corridors of the lower floors for good ten minutes before he trusted himself to be calm enough. He just could not believe it, Giacomo had been doing so much better and he knew how much it - Friedrich came to a halt sudden enough that the heels of his shoes squeaked against the polished wooden floor. The anger that he had harvested until then vanished in an instant, as soon as the realization set in, _“And I think that we shall have a little conversation about the powder as well, do you not think so, boy?”_ He smiled to himself and made his way back to his boy with a slightly bowed head, preferring it if anyone who would come across him to not notice it.

Giacomo‘s eyes snapped open but he did not turn around when the double-winged door of the throne room was pushed open and fell close, a sound that ecchoed in the otherwise quiet room. Friedrich did not speak as he took of his jacket and hung it over the back of a decorative chair, unbuttoned and rolled-up the sleeved of his blouse and walked past Giacomo to sit down on the throne. By the time he had sat down and gently called his name, Giacomo‘s heartbeat was already in his ears.

He slowly turned around to see Friedrich patting one thigh with one and beckoning him to come over with the other hand, “Come, Liebling. I think we need to have a little conversation.”, the older said with a somewhat soothing voice as Giacomo took small steps and Friedrich gently took his arms when Giacomo came to stand next to him. The younger lowered himself over Friedrich‘s lap without any struggle or arguement, the only sound he gave the soft huff that exited him when he landed in position.

Friedrich hooked the leg Giacomo was not bend over over Giacomo‘s to tether him down and the younger planted his hands on the ground to steady himself, swallowing when he felt Friedrich‘s hands reaching underneath him to do quick work with the fly of his britches, pulling them down, together with his underwear, until they were hunched around his knees, leaving him bare. Friedrich rested one hand on Giacomo‘s waist to pull him against his stomach and raised the other, beginning the spanking with a firm and hard swat to the younger‘s upturned and unprotected backside and without further words. Giacomo swallowed hard at the realization that Friedrich could hit much harder than he had done at prior occasions, and Friedrich brought his hand down again and again, setting into a rhythm to color Giacomo‘s skin an even shade.

Giacomo took it with silence at first, biting down on the insides of his cheeks but as Friedrich continued with swats as firm and punishing as they could have been, he began to make small sounds that ranged between groans, yelps and moans of pain. That was when Friedrich started his lecture.

“What were you thinking, boy? I thought I made it clear to you that I will not accept the use of drugs in my home.” Giacomo clenched his jaw shut, the side of him that had not longed for the pain of a spanking not ready to answer. He eventually still did so when Friedrich tipped him over a bit more to be able to reach the spots that Giacomo would be sitting on better. His answer of “I do not know” had not been what the older man had wanted to hear, which he made known by not easing up on said spots, making the younger gasp and squirm. “It is what you get for making you ask again.”, Friedrich merely continued with his lecturing voice, accentuating each of his next words with a smack, “Why did you do it?”

Friedrich‘s palm was working with an iron strength and Giacomo was somewhat overwhelmed find himself already sniffling, his eyes burning. They did not even come close to the burn on his backside, though, and he cursed under his breath and in Italian. “Wrong answer, boy,” Friedrich said and concentrated his hand back to the most sensitive parts of Giacomo‘s ass. “What is it that troubles you so? I thought you knew that you can talk with me about it, boy.” The tears that Giacomo broke into did not halter Friedrich‘s hand, they merely told him that this method was working as well as Friedrich had hoped it would. By the time Giacomo answered, his ass was a bright crimson and his thighs closely behind in shade. _My_ , the older man thought, _it_ _really_ _takes_ _a_ _lot_ _to_ _get_ _through_ _to_ _him_.

“Because I - I thought that you had forgotten,” came the long awaited answer, brought out between two sobs and Giacomo had since wrapped one arm around Friedrich‘s calf to hold onto the fabric of his trousers with a white-knuckled grip. Friedrich only nodded, though he did ease up on the frequency of slaps. He had no intention of bruising him. “I did forget about it, Giacomo, for which I apologize as I should have known how much you need it.” Friedrich rested his palm on those burning cheeks in front of him, his hand had started to sting uncomfortably some time ago, but merely for a few seconds before he set into another streak of well-placed swats so hard they made Giacomo cry out and buck, kicking his legs as good as he could.

“I am sorry,” he cried, “I sha-all not use again!”

“You better will not,” Friedrich had said, still with his disciplinarian tone set firmly in place, “or I will use the cane on you. Powders are nothing one should be playing around with, especially not the one I love and care for like no other!” Giacomo‘s squirms and wriths had seeped into acceptance of Friedrich‘s current control, which was just what his inner self had needed, as he layed sobbing and sniffling over the older man‘s knee.

Friedrich continued to work on his backside with sharp, steady smacks to ensure his own satisfaction in helping Giacomo as he was. When he did eventually stop, his palm was truly hurting but in no comparison to what Giacomo must had been feeling. Friedrich gently touched the abused skin, feeling the heat that radiated from there and feeling Giacomo, his Giacomo, breathing heavily in defeat, acceptance and exhaustion. “You did so well, mein Liebling,” Friedrich whispered, “so well. But please do not use it again, you are too dear for me to lose you to it.” Giacomo only nodded, still sniffling, and Friedrich smiled as he helped him stand. “Go lie down, Liebling. I will follow you soon.” He kissed Giacomo‘s temple and helped him pull his trousers back up, hugging him before he watched him go.

He cursed himself for not signing those damned papers earlier, as he then hurried to his study to do so. Friedrich finished his duties in record time, always in mind that his most important duty was waiting for him in his rooms. Giacomo. Once he had locked the door of his study behind him he had practically hasted to the the stairs that would take him to the blond, taking the stairs two at a time with all the grace of a youth in heat. Reaching his rooms he swung the door open wide, giving a groan of wanton list at the sight he was greeted with.

“Oh, Liebling.”

Giacomo was on the bed and on his knees, the red glow of his ass in stark contrast to the usual paleness of his skin as he worked two lubed fingers into himself. His jaw was slack and his face the perfect picture of bliss as he got off on the feel, his head back with his eyes closed. Friedrich kicked the door close behind him and stripped out of his clothes as quickly as he could without ruining them, not taking his eyes off his lovers form as he did so. He watched, greedily, how the slim muscles of Giacomo‘s arm rippled every time he pushed in, the way his shoulder blades stuck out from the arch of his back. The sweet sounds that escaped the blond‘s throat as he enjoyed himself drew Friedrich into some sort of spell, jacking his own cock, thus it took him a moment to realize that Giacomo was looking at him with shiny eyes.

“Are you seeing something you like?” Giacomo teased, his bottom lip already pink and plush from where he had been biting it.

“Every inch of you,” Friedrich growled, moving towards the bed with quick strodes and he crawled up behind Giacomo who sat back down on his haunches as he pressed close, his cock pushing against the cleft of Giacomo‘s ass and whether the blond gasped from pain or pleasure, or both, Friedrich did not care. He wrapped his arms around him, chest feeling the slim muscles of Giacomo‘s shoulders and back pressed against him. Giacomo tilted his face back for Friedrich to be able to kiss him, hard and dirty, all tongue and teeth, letting his lust spur him on. He ran both hands up Giacomo‘s torso, fingers rubbing against his nipples and making the younger squirm.

As he writhed, Giacomo‘s ass rubbed against Friedrich‘s cock and groin, making them both murmur in pleasurable approval but Friedrich, surprisingly, was in no hurry to fuck him. He wanted to enjoy him in his arms first, so he moved his hands downwards as he attached his mouth onto Giacomo‘s mouth, feeling Giacomo‘s finger digging into his thighs. One of Friedrich‘s hand wrapped around the younger man‘s cock while the other splayed against his stomach and he began to jack him off as a leisurely pace, making Giacomo whine. “Friedrich,” he moaned softly, pushing his ass back, “Friedrich, please...”

Friedrich shifted his head to kiss him, Giacomo‘s mouth searching for his blindly and muttering moans as Friedrich continued to jack him with just the same slow pace, cock pressing against his ass with intention. “Oh god,” Giacomo breathed out and Friedrich smiled against his mouth as he tilted his head back for a better view. Giacomo had his eyes closed and mouth hanging open, and Friedrich tightened his hold on his waist to halt his squirming hips, pressing closer to him. “Is it to your liking, Liebling,” he asked softly, enjoying how Giacomo‘s spine curved against his chest, his ass pressed against his groin and his shoulders were framed by his own. Giacomo reached up and back with a hand, curling his fingers around Friedrich‘s neck. “Oh _Friedrich_ , oh god,” he groaned out, mouth slack and pure bliss on his face and Friedrich sped up the rhythm just to hear and feel Giacomo move with pleasure. Giacomo‘s fingers tightened around his neck, scrabbling against his hairline and his breath then came out in panting gasps.

Giacomo arched his back and tried to press into Friedrich‘s grip, but Friedrich kept a firm hold around his waist as he chased him to the edge. Friedrich leaned his head down, mouth caressing Giacomo‘s skin as he watched how his hand brought this angel of a man ecstasy. “You are so beautiful my Sanssouci,” he murmured as Giacomo writhed and whined from the pleasure he was building up, his body moulded to Friedrich‘s as he leaned onto him in the moment of utter bliss after he came over the sheets and Friedrich‘s fingers.

“Oh god, oh Friedrich how amazing you are.” Friedrich kissed him again, hard and firm, wiping his fingers against Giacomo‘s stomach as he pushed up against him. He lifted his hand to take Giacomo‘s hand, his other hand blindly finding Giacomo‘s other hand on his thigh and he guided him forward to hold onto the headboard. Giacomo shivered in bliss as he leaned forward and spread his legs while Friedrich snatched the oil up from where the blond had discarded it on the bed. He rubbed a generous amount of it onto his cock and drippled some of it down the crack of Giacomo‘s crimson ass, making the blond hum in agreement.

Friedrich lined up and pressed in, clawing at his self-control so as to not enter him too roughly and Giacomo leaned his head down as he moaned at the feeling of being split open. Friedrich put a hand on his hip while the other reached up to hold his shoulder and when Friedrich could feel Giacomo pushing back, he took it as an invitation to start a slow but steady pace.

Giacomo gave a sound that was somewhat between a sob and a moan and it made Friedrich‘s finger tighten their hold and as he bottomed out, he looked down to see where they were so intimately connected, Giacomo‘s red ass still radiating heat he could feel around his groin. Friedrich grunted and gritted his teeth, beginning to move, hips rolling as he felt himself getting close too fast for his liking. He shifted his position, rising up straighter in his knees, Giacomo‘s hips dipping, ass lifting to accommodate as he leaned forward instinctively and Friedrich ran his hand from his hip to his shoulder as he leaned over, draping himself over Giacomo‘s body. His hands found Giacomo‘s where they held onto the headboard, fingers locking and with a newly found vigor Friedrich began to thrust his hips forwards, making Giacomo‘s breath hitch and body vibrate, the throaty gasps and moans spurring Friedrich on.

Friedrich rested his mouth on Giacomo‘s shoulder, licking and sucking with just the hint of teeth, “Oh Liebling,” he whispered, voice close to breaking from his efforts, “I love you so much.” He listened to the whimpers of his lover and accentuated his words with the snaps of his hips, “This is all - you need to - concentrate on,” Friedrich assured him, “me taking - care of you - mein Liebling.”

He knew he was incredibly close and he closed his eyes, dipping his head down against the space betweem Giscomo‘s shoulder blades, hands scrambling down Giacomo‘s back to rest at his hips, and he came with a shudder, hips grinding against Giacomo‘s sore ass. For a long pause they stilled, intimately connected before Friedrich carefully pulled out with a sensitive shiver and a grunt.

Gaicomo moved with a gasp of satisfaction and Friedrich smiled from ear to ear as they flopped down onto the mattess, minding the wet spots. It took some time before either of them had the strenght to move and Friedrich was the first to get up, stumbling into the en suite bathroom to get a cloth to wipe them down. Once they were clean enough they crawled under the covers, Giacomo lying on his stomach and Friedrich on his side, facing the younger as he gently drove a hand up and down his back.

He watched Giacomo drift off to sleep and his heart was so full with love that he could not keep the tears down, though they did not run from his eyes. He loved him so much... and he could not believe how lucky he was to have him back at his side.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of the finale! Since it turned out to be longer than I had expected it to be I decided to split it into two parts :-)
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

Giacomo woke up to his head being in a cloud of arousal, all thanks to Friedrich whose hand was slowly jacking his cock off until it reached its full erection. His breath hithed and he allowed his hips to thrust forwards and push his cock through the tight ring of fingers, making the man that was spooning him from behind chuckle.

“Good morning, Liebling,” Friedrich whispered, nuzzling his face into the soft skin of Giacomo‘s neck and gently kissing it. He tightened his fingers around the base of the younger man‘s cock and stilled in movement, making Giacomo whine impatiently and push further into the hold _again._ “Friedrich, please...” Friedrich started to suck a bruise on the skin closer to the other‘s jaw than shoulder, making sure that it could not be hidden, as he eased his fingers and began to move them again, gentle and sensual but with the determining force of leading Giacomo over the edge.

The younger man whined again, as he did so often while under the king‘s attention, a bit overwhelmed with his arrousal as he had just woken up but oh, Friedrich‘s hand on him was wonderful and the words of love and encouragement that were whispered into his ear sped up his pulse even more. Giacomo knew he was getting close fast, the heat pooling in his nethers was telling him so, and he turned his head in a search for Friedrich‘s lips. Broken and needy moans were let out once the two pairs of lips met and Friedrich put his hand onto Giacomo‘s throat in the heat of the moment. Squeezing his throat just hard enough to provide pleasure instead of pain, Friedrich‘s other hand increased the speed it was working on the other‘s cock with.

“How gorgeous you are, my Sanssouci,” Friedrich moaned, his own cock having come fully to life in the undergarnments he had slep in, tenting the fabric and pressing against the cleft of Giacomo‘s ass. “So beautiful, so gorgeous, so perfect, and all of that just for me to see.” “I love you,” the younger answered with a voice that was raspy and quavering from the force of his approaching orgasm, “oh Friedrich, I love you so much.” Friedrich tightened his hold again, both on Giacomo‘s cock and his neck, kissing him even deeper. He kissed him as if he feared that his words would not be able to express what he wanted him to know.

Giacomo came after a few more skilled tugs, spilling his release over Friedrich‘s fingers and shouting in into the other‘s mouth. Friedrich kissed him through it, all tongue and domination, wiping his fingers at his own clothing before he pulled away from Giacomo to heave himself onto his feet. “Where are you going,” Giacomo asked, hoping that he did not sound too desperate for attention, and Friedrich merely chuckled as he disapeared in the en suite bathroom to quickly clean and dress himself before he re-appeared with a wet cloth that he passed to the younger.

“Do not give me that look, Liebling, you know that we do not have the time for lingering around today. At least not before tonight.” Giacomo merely tsked and rolled his eyes overdramatically, though playfully, flipping over onto his stomach to burry his head in the depths of the pillow. It was too early for his liking, from what he could have guessed it must barely have been past seven, and he muttered his dislike about it into the feathers. Friedrich snorted and shook his head at his lover‘s dramatization as he sat down on the bed beside him and placing what he believed to be a love tap onto Giacomo‘s ass.

The younger had most definitely not arched his back to invite it, though.

“Stop whining or I will give you something that you can truly whine about.” It was said without any real bite behind it, but Giacomo still whirled around with a gasp that was just as playful as his prior actions, “You would not dare.” Friedrich cocked an eyebrow at him, his hand still resting on Giacomo‘s ass. “Are you testing me, boy?” The two men smiled at each other, their hearts so full of love and affection for their counterpart. “You would not dare to do so _today_ ,” Giacomo accentuated and teased Friedrich with a full-on grin as he raised onto his elbows to be able to look at him more comfortably, pulling his lower lip slowly in between his teeth. Friedrich throw his head back into his neck to laugh, a deep baritone sound that brought waves of vibrations to the very core of Giacomo‘s being. There was no other he could love so much.

“You are right, I would not do so. Unless you are asking for it that is.” Giacomo snorted, “Then how would I be able to sit through today? Quite literally, I mean.” Friedrich was still laughing and he patted his backside twice more before he stood again. “You know just how much I enjoy watching you squirm, Liebling. So do not count on me to simply not do it because of that.”

Bright pink shot into the younger man‘s cheeks and he made an indignat squal of which Friedrich could only make his name out. “I do not know why you are acting so shocked, it is not as if you were innocent to begin with Giacomo. Shall I remind you of -” “No, thank you!” Friedrich barely managed to dodge the pillow that was thrown at him with the aim being his head. He easily catched it and threw it back at Giacomo in a flash like reflex, “Get up and get dressed, Liebling. I shall be back in a few minutes.”

Giacomo nodded and sat up, yawning and stretching once before he turned to watch Friedrich walk through the room. “I love you, Friedrich.” The older man, who had just opened the door, haltered and looked back with a smile, his eyes soft and warm. “And I love you, mein Liebling, more than anything.” Giacomo‘s smile changed into a full-on grin once the door was closed and he practically jumped onto his feet from the truly good mood he was in.

If someone would have told him a couple of months ago that he would live happily like this again, Giacomo would have flipped him the bird and titled him crazy. But there he was, having spend the last two months since Friedrich‘s birthday at Sanssouci and Friedrich‘s side. And oh, how he loved it. Both his body and mind had healed, some wounds faster than others and it brought him the biggest reassurement that he knew that Friedrich was better now, too. The older man had tried to mask his own wounds which had been a result of the misery the two men had been put through, he had tried to be strong for Giacomo because he believed that the younger man needed him to be. Friedrich had, in his eyes, failed to keep his façade up by breaking down in the privacy of his rooms or study whenever he believed that Giacomo could not hear him.

_Giacomo had raised his hand to knock on the door of Friedrich‘s study, put had haltered when he had heard a sniffling sound from the other side. It had been a few days after Friedrich had found out about his... usage. He had swallowed, unsure of what to do to and whether or not he had been hearing things of imagination. But after listening again, closely this time, it had sunken in on him. Friedrich had been crying._

_He had knocked once, but had not awaited an answer before he had opened the door and closed it behind him quickly, his breath hitching when his eyes had fallen upon the older man. Friedrich had been practically hunched over his desk, face burried in his face and the piece of paper in front of him dabbled with tears, having caused the ink to ruin and make the words that had been written illegible._

_Doubting that the other had even heard him entering, Giacomo had simply walked across the room until he had stood in front of his lover. “Friedrich.” He had not expected him to flinch and look up with a gasp, roughly wiping at the wetness on his face. “Liebling.” Friedrich‘s voice had been so unsteady that it had shaken something within Giacomo, and the younger had simply moved around the table until he had been able to wrap his arms around him, holding him as his body was being hit by tremors. “What happened, Friedrich.” The older man had shaken his head, but Giacomo had not backed down until Friedrich had told him that he still had flashbacks of that certain day in July._

_Giacomo had not been able to keep his own tears at bay as he listened to repeated and sobbed apologies._

Shaking his head to get rid of the unpleasant memory, Giacomo set into motion again and walked over to the double-winged window to open it up wide, allowing the the warm spring air to flood into the room. It was unusally warm for this time of year, early April, or so Friedrich had told him. But Giacomo was glad for that, as he still was rather aversed to cold temperatures. He breathed in deeply, listening to the happy and carefree chirping of the birds for a few momets before he remembered Friedrich‘s words and that the other would be back soon.

He put on the attire that he had chosen for this day some time ago, it had actually been aquired just for the occasion. Or, well, one of the attires for the day, as he knew that he would change at least two more times before the hour would turn late. No respectable man at court would wear the same clothes through a whole day of festivities.

Giacomo was carefully brushing his hair when Friedrich entered the room without knocking, and he looked at him through the Venetian mirror he had been standing in front of. Friedrich was holding both of his hands behind his back and while his ear-to-ear grin should have been tale-telling, Giacomo failed when his mind tried to decipher it. He went on with his task as he spoke, “Is there something funny that I happened to have missed?”, and his brows pulled together for a second when Friedrich simply continued to stand there, grinning and cocking his eyebrows as he waited for the younger man to catch on.

“Well, I do not know if it is funny but I do know that you need to close your eyes, turn around and hold out your hands.” Giacomo snorted, “What?”, shaking his head. “I am waiting,” Friedrich said with some sort of a sing-sang voice and Giacomo sighed alonged, putting the brush down and doing what he had been told to do. “I am ready for... whatever you are planning to do.” “Good. Keep your eyes closed,” the older man said as a warning and it did nothing to cease the younger‘s confusion. Giacomo could hear Friedrich walking over to him, the heels of his shoes clicking on the wooden floor until he came to a halt, presumably very close to him.

Giacomo was unsuccessful at stopping himself from flinching when something warm and fluffy was placed into the palms of his hands, “Careful, do not drop it,” Friedrich warned as he took a step backwards, smiling as what he was looking at warmed his heart. “Alright, you can open your eyes now, Liebling.”

Friedrich‘s smile only grew wider, so wide it must have reached both of his ears, when Giacomo gasped after opening his eyes and spotting the small bundle of fur that he was holding. It was small enough for it to fit comfortably into his cupped hands. “You did not...” “I wish you a happy birthday, my love.” The tears that rose into Giacomo‘s brown eyes were those of utter happiness, Friedrich knew, and he watching with the same warm feeling surrounding his heart as Giacomo only took his eyes away from him when he raised the puppy onto eye level. He tsked, “Where did you even get him?”, he asked, not managing to keep from bursting into a sob that was half a laugh when he gently rubbed his cheek against the tiny puppy. He had never seen a dog so small, the only Papillons he had ever came across had been fully grown and they had been adorable even when they were no longer little.

“ _It_ is a _he_ and he has no name yet, which is why I could not get you a fitting colar for him. I will do so as soon as you decide on a name.” “Oh Friedrich,” Giacomo whispered, giving a small chuckle when the puppy barked and licked at his cheek, “I cannot thank you enough, I -” Friedrich was at his side in a blink of the eye, putting an arm around the small of Giacomo‘s waist to pull him close to him. “You deserve to have every single one of your wishes fulfilled, my Sanssouci.”

Seeing Giacomo so happy brought an immense happiness to Friedrich, too, and he smiled into the kiss that the blond initiated. “He is so so tiny,” Giacomo said once he had averted his eyes away from his lover and back to the puppy. “It is normal for their breed.” “I know that!” Friedrich chuckled, “I also know that you are aware of me preferring Windhounds over other breeds, but this one is exeptionally cute I must say.” Friedrich pet the puppy with one finger, actually worrying of accidentaly hurting it, it was tiny after all, and Giacomo looked up at him with still filled eyes.

“You remembered?”

“Of course I did, Liebling,” Friedrich whispered into the softness of the younger man‘s hair, “you did wrote it to me.” “But that was months ago, Friedrich.” “Yes, it was.” “I cannot believe that you remembered, this is the best present that I have ever received. Thank you so much.” Friedrich chuckled, “It is what I had hoped, Liebling. I had thought that it would make your birthday a bit more better and to your liking.” “A bit more better? Friedrich, I am so greatful for what you did for me.” “I know, Giacomo, I did not mean to accuse you of being ungreatful. I just know that you would have preferred your day to be a rather small occasion.” “Do not pay too much thought to it, Friedrich,” Giacomo kissed him again, lips lingering.

“I want everyone to know what you are to me and how much I cherish you, mein Liebling.” “Now that you mentioned it, I would pay to see the king of France‘s face when it is told to him that you are doing all of today for your paramour -” The sound Friedrich made in response to Giacomo‘s words could have been read as a reaction to either an offend or a surprise. “You are not my _paramour_ ,” he spat the word as if it was the most disgusting thing he had ever tasted. “In the meaning of the word -” “Who cares for what it stands.” Friedrich would not have snapped if he would have known that Giacomo would flinch and clutch the puppy to his chest at his outburst.

Giacomo‘s extreme reaction to loudly spoken words was just one of the wounds that had healed and left a visible scar behind. “I am sorry, I did not mean to anger you.” Friedrich nuzzled his nose and lips against the younger man‘s temple, kissing it before he answered with a much lower voice, “You could never anger me, Liebling. I apologize for losing my temper, I cannot and will not accept you playing yourself down.” Friedrich gently caressed the spot on Giacomo‘s waist where his hand was splayed on. “I never would have married her if it would not have been my duty for my father even more than it had been for my country.” The tension had once again left Giacomo‘s body, and he had resumed petting the puppy that he still held against his chest, “I know that, Friedrich, you made it very clear to me that you do not love her from the very beginning we two met. You did not invite her, did you?”

Friedrich knew the question was both to tease him and to lighten the mood, and he snorted and pulled his arm away to move around Giacomo until he was standing in front of him. He cupped his face and tipped his face back, thus making the younger look at him, “Of course I did not invite her. I made it a rule for her to never be allowed entrance into my home.” “Why would you do that?” Friedrich tilted his own head and smiled softly, stroking the soft skin of Giacomo‘s cheeks. “Because Sanssouci is my home, Giacomo, and I do not want my personal nightmare to occupy it.” The younger man pressed his lips together to keep himself from bursting into laughter, and he fought for a good few moment before he spoke, “Personal nightmare? That is pretty rude, is it not.”

The king of Prussia snorted and let go of the younger man‘s face, “I was being kind, actually. And honest. There are... a few things that I could tell you about her without lying.” “If you say so,” Giacomo had not missed the shudder that had gone through Friedrich‘s body at the mere mention of his wife and as this was not the time for a conversation with such a topic, he decided not to dig any deeper. He knew that Friedrich would talk to him once he was ready to do so.

Giacomo shifted his attention back to the bundle in his hands, the puppy had since dozed off with his small head leaned against his chest. “Oh would you look at him Friedrich, he is so precious!” “Just like you, Liebling.” The younger man sighed and rolled his eyes, causing Friedrich to smile. He was, sometimes, still surprised by just how much he loved him. Giacomo, he was... a beautiful human being, inside and out. “I do not believe that I can ever let him go,” Giacomo whined playfully and Friedrich snorted when he began to rock the sleeping dog, “I am sure that he will get lost. Or someone will tremple him, he is so tiny.” He pressed a series of small pecks into the soft black and white fur. “I can assure you that he will most definitely not get lost, Liebling, do not worry about that.” “And,” Giacomo suddenly sounded serious, “do not let your hounds get to him.” Friedrich nodded sharply and a smile played around his lips, “Of course, Liebling. I will make sure of that.”

The younger man shot him another loving look before he turned on his heals and slowly walked over to their shared bed, putting the still sleeping puppy down onto it. “My, he must be exhausted,” he whispered, not wanting to wake him. Friedrich could not do but shake his head at the antics of his lover and he held his spread arms out in an offer of embrace, closing them around Giacomo after the younger had downright hasted to get in between them. He was silenced before he even had the chance the speak up, “Do not start to thank me again, Liebling.” “But -” “No buts,” Friedrich smiled and Giacomo snorted, though he accepted it. “I can already see that you will be treating him like your son.” “He is the only child I have. I thought you knew that they invented condoms for a reason, Friedrich.”

“Brat.” “I still want to know where you got him from, as far as I know they are not very common and... not cheap to aquire.” “Do I really have to remind you again, Liebling? I am the king of -” I know that, Friedrich,” Giacomo laughed and pulled away to be able to look at the older man‘s face, “stop acting as if you do not know what I am getting at.”

One of Friedrich‘s hands wandered southwards until it was splayed across Giacomo‘s ass, squeezing at it once, hard, before moving back up. “Do not be a brat, Liebling.” “Fried-hmpf!” He kissed him again, fully onto the lips and deepening the kiss right from the beginning, pulling Giacomo closer by the small of his back. “How I got him would be another present, Liebling.” “What?”, the younger asked, clearly confused when he watched Friedrich walk through the room and over to the door. He opened it and nodded to whoever must be standing in the corridor. _No way_ , Giacomo‘s eyes widened and his mouth fell slightly agape, _there just was no way on God‘s good earth._

“Happy birthday, _mignonette_.”

“Philippe,” he breathed, “Philippe!” The two men strode over to each other and the blond practically jumped into the frenchman‘s arms, wrapping his own arms around Philippe‘s neck. They both laughed as Philippe spun them around, their laughter used as a ventile for the stocked-up emotions that they had been carrying around with them. “I cannot believe that you came here,” Giacomo whispered once he was sat back down onto his feet, and the frenchman cupped a hand against one of his cheeks, thus making their eyes meet. “You look so much better than when I last saw you, _mignonette_.”

Friedrich, who was standing a few meters away, clecnhed his jaw as he watched the two men interact. “There is no need for you to be jealous, Uncle,” Henry put a hand onto Friedrich‘s arm, “trust me.” He forced his eyes away from Giacomo and onto his young nephew who seemed to be so much more mature than him on that moment. He offered a small smile, “I know that.” “Do you really, Uncle?” Friedrich‘s not-coming answer was enough of an answer, and Henry breathed in deeply and exhaled just as long before he spoke next. “I am aware that Philippe loved him and still does so in a way. I could not change that even if I wanted to, Uncle.” Friedrich swallowed hard, his eyes back onto the pair of friends who were speaking too quiet for him to catch a words, and Henry went on without waiting for a verbal answer.

“We cannot expect it to change, Uncle. They went through a lot of hard times together and they share a bond that is special for them, one that does not include us.” “I fear that you are right, Nephew.”

“Where did you get him from,” was the first thing Giacomo spoke out loud enough for the two Prussians to hear it, too. There had been no need for them to hear their whispered words of friendship, gratitude and love. “After I got the letter from... His Majesty I asked my brother if he knew of some and to our luck the queen‘s dog just had a litter and was bounteous enough to sell us one.” Giacomo turned slightly to look at Friedrich, grinning, “He is a little prince, then.” “Liebling...” Their scene was disturbed by the barking of said ‘prince‘ and the three men watched with amusement as Giacomo hurried to get the puppy into his arms again. “He will definitely be spoiled,” Philippe chuckled.

“You are a good boy, yes you are,” the Italian chirped as if he was talking to a young child, repeating it over and over again as the puppy yapped happily. “I believe that you just gave the unshared attention that you were blessed with away with this present, uncle.” “It is worth it, but you are too young to understand it,” Friedrich answered to Henry with a smile. “I am eighteen, Uncle.” “Yes, exactly. You are eighteen.”

“Prince is a fitting name for him, Friedrich, or so I believe. Do you happen to have any problems with that name?” Giacomo was still using his chirping tone and while Friedrich did indeed have a problem with it, he never would have spoken it out. _Why would he ruin Giacomo‘s joy?_ “Look at him and tell me that he is no prince.” Giacomo held the puppy up as if to prove a point and the king of Prussia groaned, shaking his head as he closed the space between him and his lover to kiss him.

Before Friedrich pulled back, he whispered something into Giacomo‘s ear that made the younger man blush furiously, “Wait until we are alone tonight, brat. I will show you just what problem I have with it.” Giacomo tried to keep the smile of excitement down, while he had close to no boundaries with Philippe he was not eager to let something slip in front of Henry, Philippe‘s lover and Friedrich‘s nephew. It would be too great of an embarassment for him, of that he was sure. Friedrich, however, smiled and chuckled openly as he allowed one of his hands to rest on top of the swell above Giacomo‘s ass and kissed him again. “Breakfast will be served at eight-thirty.” Henry, who had since went back to holding Philippe‘s hand, nodded and waved with the invitation. “It is all written in here, Uncle.”

“You shall leave then. We will see you at breakfast, be punctual.” Henry and Philippe left, both men slightly bowing once before they left and closed the door behind them. The clock had not yet even stroke eight yet and Giacomo already could not believe all of what had happened to him so far. Friedrich hummed in what the younger guesses was consideration as he groped at Giacomo‘s ass again, this time with both hands, “I wonder if it would be wise to wait until tonight for you to make your trip over my knee, Liebling. You carry quite a lot of cheek around with you today.” The blush on Giacomo‘s face grew darker and the sat Prince down onto the bed yet again where the puppy started to gnaw at the bed spread almost immediately.

“Friedrich -” His backside was smacked, twice, making him drive forward and further against Friedrich‘s chest. He gasped, those two hits had been loaded with enough strength to make the skin where they had landed on tingle. “Yes, brat?” “Please do not... spank me now. Please, wait for tonight.” Friedrich, again, made a humming sound of consideration regarding the offer, drinking in the way the patched on Giacomo‘s cheeks had darkened at the mere enunciation of the word ‘spank‘.

It was the big difference between sober Giacomo and intoxicated Giacomo that made it so easy for Friedrich to tell them apart, aside from the enlarged pupils and chronic rubbing of the nose. This blushing, and embarassed about what turned him on, Giacomo was his Giacomo, the once he had fallen in love with head over heels. Not the easy and conflicted individual the powder brought to light.

“But watching you squirm and knowing that you are doing so because of me would be enjoyable, Liebling, would you not agree?” The next few moments were drenched in silence, expect for the ragingly playing puppy, as Giacomo was trying to wonder about whether or not he really would have to say goodbye to sitting down comfortably for the whole rest of the day. Friedrich could not do but smile, the display of honest submission in such subtle ways enough to make his trousers seem too small again. “Alright, I shall wait for tonight.” The breath the younger man let out after unknowingly holding it in was a shaky and reliefed one, “Thank you, Friedrich.”

Friedrich chuckled deep in his chest and let him out from between his arms, his chuckles growing into a laugh when Giacomo shot him a gaze that had been supposed to be a stern one. “Friedrich, stop that! You are very much aware of what it does to me!” “Which is why I enjoy doing it so much, Liebling. Oh and you better get your dog before he tears up our bed completely and we have to sleep on the floor tonight.” Giacomo did as Friedrich said, but not without sticking out his tongue, and held the puppy next to his face with a pout. “Even if he would destroy it, how could you be mad at such a precious face?” Friedrich raised an eyebrow, “Not at him, as he is but a dog and does not know any better. At you, however, I could be mad.” “Now you are just looking for any excuses to -” “Bend you over my knee? Indeed, yes. Do not act as if you do not like being over it since you do look very nice in that position.”

~

Giacomo looked again, closely this time, to make sure that it was not just his mind that was playing tricks on him before he leaned slightly to his side to be able to whisper to Philippe who was seated next to him, low so nobody else could hear it. “Why does Wilhelm seem to be staring at you, Philippe?” The frenchman looked at Giacomo, the blond since having leaned back down into his chair, and picked up his napkins to dab at the corners of his mouth as he allowed his eyes to wander over to where Friedrich‘s valet was sitting, though not for longer than a second.

He had known that Giacomo had been right before doing so, Wilhelm had been looking at him, inconspiciously, since he had sat down at the table and every time Philippe felt the valet‘s eyes on him it would bring a shiver down his spine and made him sit up a bit straighter. “No, _mignonette_ , he is most definitely not,” he said, trying to ignore the way he was being watched.

The next time that cursed man would try to punish him Philippe would not submit to it, he would fight it. It had taken his backside almost a week to heal from the biting marks of the cane. Giacomo snorted and plopped a grape into his mouth, shaking his head.

The breakfast banquet was a very merry and rather small occasion. Friedrich knew that Giacomo had wanted it to small, so he made sure to make it to his liking. While Giacomo could not have known that Philippe and Henry would be coming Friedrich had wanted it to be as private as it could be, as it would probably be the only opportunity for them to have at least some time as a couple before the day would be over and they would retrieve to their chamber again. So it was them, Friedrich and Giacomo, Friedrich‘s nephew and Philippe, Friedrich‘s valet and a couple of high ministers that Friedrich had decided to invite in front of the background of ‘social alibi‘.

Friedrich‘s hand that had been resting high on Giacomo‘s thigh from the moment they had taken their seats at the table was warm and a gesture of comfort, though it had moved too close to the younger man‘s nethers to calm him and his pulse. Giacomo coughed and shot Friedrich a somewhat stern gaze over the rim of his glass when the king‘s hand had moved even further north until the tips of his fingers brushed against the outline of Giacomo‘s suddenly very interested cock. Friedrich, the image of pure innocence that he was, made a questioning sound and looked up from where he had been bend over his plate with a smile, “Yes, Liebling?” The younger man grabbed the hand, that was then resting fully on his groin rather than his leg, a bit roughly and moved it away himself.

“Stop,” Giacomo hissed with a whispering voice, looking around before he continued, “you will make me come right here in my pants, like a youth and in front of everyone!” Friedrich made a sound that was half hummed half chuckled but listened, drawling loose circles on the fabric of Giacomo‘s trousers with his thumb. No further answer followed that sound and Giacomo was practically struck with the thought that, maybe, it was what Friedrich had planned for him to do. The older man‘s mouth was suddenly at his ear, “Judging by the lovely color on your cheeks, Liebling, I shall believe that you are not so opposed to the idea yourself.”

Giacomo had been right, they were acting like youth and it would have been embarassing if it would not bring such a thrill with it. “Are you alright, _mignonette_?” Philippe asked out of thin air with concern clearly written on his face as he eyes him from the side, and Giacomo cleared his throat before he answered, “Yes of course I -” Friedrich‘s hand on his thigh tightened its hold and he knew that it should not make the heat pool in the pitch of his stomach like it did. “It is merely a bit hot in here and I need to catch some air.” “Giacomo.” Philippe‘s obvious concern for him and his well-being was admirable and made him smile, even in the truly unfortunate situation Giacomo had found himself, or rather his cock, to be in.

“I am being honest Philippe, I am splendid.” The frenchman leaned back into his chair, the tension that had begun to build up in his posture seeping away, “If you say so, _mignonette_.” “If you would excuse me for a moment, Sires,” Giacomo spoke up, loud enough so the other guests at the table could hear it, too, and stood, trying no to strud through the room and towards the door with a speed that was too obvious.

He released a loaded breath once the door had fallen close behind him, he could hear laughter from behind it as he slowly walked down the corridor with his hands folded in the crease of his neck and tried to will his already throbbing erection back down. So being around Friedrich could be dangerous after all, in a not-so-dangerous way. No matter when it was, no matter where they were, the smallest of Friedrich‘s touched could be enough to bring Giacomo to the peak. He could not say that he never had experienced erections in socially unsuitable situations as he was _Giacomo Casanova_ , but it had never been so extreme as it had been with Friedrich.

“God damn it,” he cursed under his breath, squealing when he was suddenly grabbed from behind and spun around by a person he had not noticed approaching him. “You are something else,” Friedrich chuckled into the air next to his ear, the sound of his voice making the small hairs in the back of Giacomo‘s stand up. He nibbled at the younger man‘s ear lobe, sucking it between in teeth before he moved down to pay attention to the pale and yet unmarked skin of his neck. “Friedrich,” Giacomo moaned, cursing under his breath when the skin under his jaw was being caressed. “Friedrich, not here.”

Friedrich‘s lips dislodged from his skin with a _plop_. “And why not? I do not see a problem here.” “Someone could see -” Gaicomo moaned again but this time snapped his jaw shut to prevent any louder sound to escape him when he was squeezed through his trousers. “There is only one problem we have to deal with before we can go back in, Liebling.”

Giacomo could not do but break into laughter, pulling away from Friedrich‘s arms and putting distance between them. “First of all, dirty talk while the hour is early and we are in public is not one of your strengths, Friedrich. Also, I do not want to be the number once of court talk again if someone should happen to see us -” He did not even get to finish his sentence before he was grabbed again, this time by his wrist and pulled behind one of the heavy curtains that lined the wall-high windows of the upper floors of the palace, his breath being pushed out of his lungs when his back collided with the wooden paneling of the wall. Friedrich put his left hand over the younger man‘s mouth, muffling any sound that he may make, while his right hurried to open the buttons of Giacomo‘s fly to push them down enough for his cock to spring free.

“The chances are close to none that someone will notice if you keep your pretty lips sealed together, Liebling.” Giacomo tried to make a disagreeing sound which blurred into a moan when the hand on his cock began to jerk him with rather fast and rough tugs, making his eyes roll back into his head that hit the wall when he threw it back.

Friedrich laughed, again with a deep baritone voice, against Giacomo‘s neck, “You need to finish fast if you do not want your guests to get suspicious, Liebling.” A muffled moan followed. “You are insatiable, are you not? So eager for my touch that you cannot even go through a meal?” Giacomo‘s whine made him smile and while he was turned on himself, quite a lot so, he knew that there was barely time enough to one to finish and since it was his lovers birthday... He removed his hand from the blond‘s mouth and kissed him, pushing his tongue past Giacomo‘s lips and swallowing his needy moans that were then free to come out.

“Can you keep quiet on your own or do I need to -” The younger man‘s moan that another tug at his cock brought out answered Friedrich‘s question he had not even needed to ask and Giacomo‘s pupils were blown wide when a folded handkerchief was put in between his teeth to muffle his voice. “It suits you well, my Sanssouci, I should remember it.” Friedrich kissed a corner of his mouth and Giacomo almost let the handkerchief fall as his jaw fell when the older man sank to his knees. Giacomo‘s hand snatched up to remove the fabric and whine Friedrich‘s name in a low tone. Even with Friedrich on his knees in front of him Giacomo was still the submissive one and it was clear as day to the both of them, so clear that Friedrich squeezed at the base of his cock to remind him of it in case he had forgotten.

“Put it back in,” Friedrich whispered, “Liebling,” and smiled somewhat proudly when Giacomo obeyed without a snarky remark as his head was dazed with arousal. Once the moans, whines and whimpers were muffled again Friedrich began to put his tongue and mouth to use, it had been a lifetime since had performed fellatio but he managed to do more than an acceptable job, judging by the was Giacomo‘s hips thrusted forward to meet the bobbing of his head and how the younger man‘s hands were in his hair. While Friedrich used the hold he had on Giacomo‘s hair once the younger was in the situation he was currently in as a sign of domination, the hold on his hair was a search for security.

Once Giacomo had finished down Friedrich‘s throat and the older man had made sure that neither of their clothes were showing signs of their activity - they would only be able to change after breakfast - he raised back onto his feet and Friedrich pulled the handkerchief out of Giacomo‘s mouth and kissed him hard, hands cupping his lover‘s face to pull him even closer. “Happy birthday, Liebling.” “Are you going to say that after every orgasm of mine today?” He kissed the younger again, drawing a laugh from him. “I just always wanted to do that and it is a very good idea.”

Friedrich stuck his head out and made sure that the air was clear before he stepped out from behind the curtain, pulling Giacomo along with him. Philippe was the only one to cock an eyebrow when they returned together and the blond was guided with a hand in the small of his back until he and Friedrich had sat down again. The frenchman raised his glass in a toast when Giacomo had looked at him while nibbling on the inside of his lip, shooting him a look that was more tale telling than the whole of the bible.

“To Monsieur Casanova, for that his birthday will turn out to be... of his satisfaction.”

“To Monsieur Casanova!”

They had gone seperated ways after the banquet as Friedrich had not managed to put all of his work off for the day, and since Giacomo had been in no mood to spend his time in solitude he had accepted Philippe‘s inviation to join him and Henry for a game of cards in the salon.

“ _Mignonett_ e, I do not believe that you ever told me how you actually met him,” the French asked, setting the glass he had been drinking from down onto the table and picking his play cards back up. “I think I already told you, Philippe.” He shrugged, “If you did so I forgot about it and you know that I never forget anything. Ever.” Both Giacomo and Henry snorted and the Italian was petting the puppy that was sitting in his lap as he had long been excluded from the game. He would probably never be good at it, but it did not bother him. “Why do you care, I thought only ladies loved to talk.”

“I care because I am honestly interested, I mean - he adressed you as a friend, which would suggest that you two have been knowing each other for some time. It cannot be too embarassing for you to tell me after all we -” Giacomo threw his hands into the air in playful resignation, laughing, “I will speak, there is no need for you to torture me. But do not go around and share it, that counts for the both of you."

“Monsieur Casanova -” “It is Giacomo for you, Henry.” Henry smiled before he continued, “Giacomo, you are my uncle‘s lover and I do not believe that anyone on court would be really interested to hear it as it has been confirmed and thus is no longer a secret. They are drawn to secrets only, much like bloodhounds.”

“I met Friedrich on... the seventh of July, last year,” Giacomo had to smile at the memory, it truly seemed like a whole different lifetime. A life without Friedrich was pretty much unimaginable for him. “I had been planning to introduce myself to him for some time since I had already done so with most of Europe‘s monarchs.” “The Habsburgs, too?” “Yes, Henry. I spend about two weeks at Schönbrunn.” “Oh. I bet my uncle was not too happy about that,” the youngest of the three men joked. “He calmed once I promised to him that I had not played cards with Maria Theresa,” Giacomo said with a wink, “ where was I? Right, so once I had everything ready for me to travel to Prussia I send a letter requesting an audience with him.”

Philippe snorted, “An audience? You must be joking.” “I am not. He even answered me personally and stated that he would meet me in the park of Sanssouci at four in the afternoon. And that was where I met him.” “No no, _mignonette_ , I can feel that you witholding the biggest part of it. So, what happened in the park?” Giacomo did not even try to keep the color from rising into his cheeks as the flashbacks flooded over him. “No,” Philippe gasped, tilting his head, “you did not.” “I did not do anything, Giacomo tried to defend though there really was nothing that he had to defend. “Friedrich told me that I was a beautiful man and...”

“In the park?” It was when Philippe‘s voice had turned somewhat high and squeaky that Henry catched up, too, and the young man blushed just as bright. “If you would do without going into further details I would be forever greatful.” “I had not planned to do so anyway,” Giacomo almost stumbled over his words, correcting his position in the chair and clearing his throat, drinking from his glass to lift the awkwardness of the situation.

“It is not what I had expected but I must say that it is sweet in a way,” Philippe said after a few moments and Henry eagerly nodded in agreement. “It really is.” “I know that I am in a funny position to say it but to me, _mignonette_ , it sounds like real love to me. You two met and,” the frenchman snapped his fingers, “there you were.” Giacomo nodded slowly, hoping that that topic would be over with that. “How is Achille?”, he thus asked, “I since need to get an answer to my last letter.” Philippe chuckled, “Yes, my cousin is most busy these days but as far as I know he is doing well. He and Joseph are enjoying their time.” “That is good. I miss my time at Saint-Cloud sometimes, I really do.” “We did have a lot of fun,” Philippe smirked and wiggled his eyebrows, sending Giacomo into another fit of laughter.

“If you rule out Maximilien, then yes.” “Well...,” the frenchman gestured with his hands, “he is himself.” “And given the fact that my stay had not resulted from wanderlust.” Giacomo regretted saying it out as soon as he could see some of Philippe‘s glee fade from his eyes. “Henry, would you be so good as to leave us alone for a few moments?”

The Prussian nodded and stood, he, like he had told his uncle, did understand the special bond the two men shared, walking off to find something else to do. Philippe put his hand on top of Giacomo‘s, that was laying on the table top, as soon as his lover was out of sight. “You still are not alright, are you?” “What? I am, Philippe, I told you I am. There is nothing that you should worry about.” “ _Mignonette_ -” Giacomo swallowed, “Really, I am just fine.” Philippe raised an eyebrow at him, damn that French for having all the tricks to make him nervous without him having anything to hide. “ I am.” “He told me, you know.” “Who told you what, Philippe.”

Philippe sighed, “In the letter that he send me regarding your present he also mentioned that you have been using a powder.” “You _told_ him?” “Of course I told him, _mignonette_ , while we do not like each other we are both worried about your health.” Giacomo somewhat sacked against the back of the chair, even if he would try to be mad at either or both of them he could not do so. “You are not mad, are you?” “No, Philippe, you did nothing wrong.” “And you are no longer using, are you? I hate myself for even introducing you to them -” “It is not your fault, I should have known that I am not strong enough to withstand them,” Giacomo offered his friend a reassuring smile. “I am trying to stay away from them and Friedrich, he also quite literally beat my longing for them out of me.” “Beat as in -” “Nono, not like that. He... spanked me.”

“But you like that,” Philippe teased, showing a grin that made Giacomo blush. “Not as a punishment, Philippe.” “So I guess that it worked?” “Yes.” “If it is what it takes for you to stay away. I do have a few brushes that I no longer need, do you think that he would want them?” They both laughed as Giacomo tried to swat at him, it was just the teasing he had missed from his friend being present. Writing letters could never come close to it. “So you two, you are really doing good.” “Yes,” Giacomo whispered, feeling the sudden urge to pull his hand away but Philippe stopped him by gently enclosing his wrist. “ _Mignonette_...” He looked around and his breath hitched even though Henry currently stood with his back towards them.

“Philippe...”

“My love for you yet has to cease, Giacomo.”

“Do not tell me that you are using that poor boy.”

“I would never do so. I love Henry but I love you, too, and I know that it is unfair for my love to run deeper with you. I cannot change my heart.”

“I know.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I had a couple of deadlines that I needed to take care of first but here we are, just in time for the three-months anniversary of me falling in love with Fracomo :'-)<3
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

Spending the rest of the day until it was time for the ball should have been an enjoyment for Giacomo instead of the chore that it seemed to be. The problem was that the could not explain why it presented itself as such. He had held no grundges against either Henry or Philippe, but sitting by and watching as they flirted and shared intimacy with each other annoyed him to no end. The fact that it annoyed him, though, made Giacomo‘s mood turn even worse.

“You are quiet, _mignonette_ ,” Philippe suddenly pulled him out of his haze, cocking an eyebrow at him in an asking manner as Giacomo cleared his throat and reached for his glass of wine, only trusting himself to speak once his throat had been wetted. “Well, who does not enjoy some peace and quiet on a beautiful day as this one.” His voice was not dripping with sarcasm but he had not tried to hide it either, and yet Henry fell into a somewhat boyish giggle that made the corners of Giacomo‘s mouch twitch only slightly. The young Prussian nudged Philippe in the rips, “Uncle never told me of just how funny you are, Giacomo.”

“I am sure that he has not told you everything that there is to know about me,” was all he said before he raised the glass to his lips again, keeping his eyes firmly glued to the top of the table as he could practically feel Philippe‘s eyes on him, urging him to meet them in contact and if Giacomo drank in slow and small sips to drag out his excuse to neither speak nor react otherwise, he did so unintentionally.

It was a shame, really, just how many things had changed after the time the two friends had spend parted from each other. Being around the frenchman had always been a haven of comfort and security, of friendship and a place where Giacomo could be himself, but it had shifted to being a burdened and uncomfortable occasion. It had not taken him long to realize it, even prior to Philippe‘s repeated confession of his love he had sensed that it would not be the same.

Maybe it had been Philippe‘s intention to mess up his world of feelings that since had shifted into place, the Italian thought. Friedrich loved him and he loved Friedrich, their love and relationship was strong and safe between them, so why did the small, nagging voice in the back of his head made him feel guilty for knowing that he could not imagine to ever love Philippe in the way the frenchman so obviously loved him.

Giacomo banged rather that set the glass back down onto the table, the sound startling the two man that had since returned to busy themselved with acting like love birds and Philippe‘s eyes were back on him even before the French had disloged his lips from those of the Prussian. He had enough, he knew that he would eventually snap and say something he would regret the moment it would leave his lips if he would continue to sit there so he stood just as abruptly and pushed the chair back like it was required by protocol. “If you would excuse me, I believe that my dog requires to go outside.” Philippe showed an intention to follow him, “A tad bit of fresh air is just what I require -” “No,” Giacomo said in a cut-off way, trying not to snap and trying to keep his voice flat as he did so. “I would much rather like to do so alone, thank you for your offer.”

He walked off, knowing that it must seem like a flight and trying to ward off the feeling or the two pairs of eyes burning on his back, shifting his attention back to the puppy in his arms. “What was that all about,” asked with a whisper, tsking and shaking his head at the incomprehensible behavior of the Italian. Philippe did not respond to him right away, too busy trying to keep the pieces of his heart from falling apart.

He would have needed to be a true idiot to not see the reason why Giacomo had turned him down in such a rough manner, something that yet had to happen a second time, and why he had kept so unusually quiet the whole time. It was his fault, there was no mistaking of it. “I wish that I knew, _mon beau_. I should go and talk to him, maybe there is something burdening his heart.” Henry made a sound that Philippe could not assign, and the French turned his gaze towards him. Did he feel like he was using the younger man as some sort of replacement like Giacomo had accused him of doing? No, he was not using him. He and Henry were a good match, on the same wavelength on almost all aspects and yet... Henry was different from Giacomo in even more. He was not the Italian, not his dearest friend. “Yes, I believe that you should do so. He is your friend.”

Philippe kissed the younger man‘s cheek before he stood from the chair and hurried after his friend who had left the salon a moment earlier, he was not eager to have to search the whole lot of the gardens for him. Making sure to not let his stride be too obvious he crossed the room with some sort of tunnel vision with the blond as his focus. Yes, Giacomo had told him, when they had been down at the river, that he would not let his feelings be the reason for a possible end of their friendship. But what if he would know that Philippe saw his face as they had been in bed, together with Beaumont, his brown eyes looking up at him as his lips had been wrapped around his cock in front of his inner eye almost every time the French looked at Giacomo?

That would surely be a reason to cut the friendship to an end and Philippe would that it would not happen. He could not lose him, it was hard enough to see Friedrich‘s hands on him as it was, knowing that his hands would never touch Giacomo in such a manner again or that the teasing smirk that followed a bite of the blond‘s lowe lip would never be adressed to him. God must surely be taunting him because Giacomo and Friedrich had not been jumping at each other like that before, they seemed to not even be able to make it through a simple meal without having to excuse themselves. Oh, how Philippe‘s heart had clenched and started to grow cracks when Giacomo had returned to his seat beside him after returning to the banquet, the smell of arousal thick enough on him that he had not even look at the blond‘s soft-pink cheeks and the glimmer in his eyes that made the brown shine brightly to know what happened outside.

The frenchman checked the left and the right of the corridor as he stepped out of the double-winged door, lucky enough to barely catch the head of blond hair just as it was about to disappear behind a corner. He called out Giacomo‘s name and jogged down the corridor to catch up with him.

Giacomo did stop once he had heard him but did not turn to face him, instead staring straight ahead as if he was incredibly annoyed by being forced to halt and listen. It was not hard for Philippe to see how tense the other‘s back was and whe he rested his hand on once of Giacomo‘s shoulders the blond dodged away from his touch like he was burned by it.

“ _Mignonette_ -”

“Keep your hands away from me, do you understand. Do not touch me,” Giacomo snarled and Philippe tilted his head as he shook it, having not espected to be confronted with such an outburst and he took a symbolic step back with his hands raised in front of his chest. “Okay, I understand. But please calm yourself, we are -” He was still holding his hands raised when Giacomo almost whirled around to finally look at him with tear-filled eyes and red rising to color his cheeks, obviously not caring that someone could easily witness it. “What is it with you and acting like nothing is ever in your fault, ever!” Again, Philippe would have to be both blind and deaf to miss the point that was being, figuratively, thrown at him and his mind, for once in his life time, happened to be completely blank.

Giacomo laughed, but it sounded rather like a ventile for pent-up anger than of joy. “So now you are just going to stand there and say nothing or -” Philippe did not know, and even later would not know, what force drove him but he closed in on the other and his lips were on Giacomo‘s from one second to the other. He realized what he had done only when he was roughly bushed away and his cheek smarted from where Giacomo had hit him, again much harder than he had down at the river side. He gasped as he cupped one of his hands against the sore side of his face and when he looked up again and at the other man, his heart broke once and for all. Giacomo had since started to cry and he was looking rather pale and shaky. “What is wrong with you,” the Italian cried out, surely enough for everyone to hear, “Who do you think you are?”

“I... I am so sorry Giacomo I do not know what drove me -” “Shut your mouth,” Giacomo snarled, pointing a finger at Philippe though it came across as a gesture of despair rather than anger given his tears, “and keep my name out of your mouth.” His mind was surely racing as fast as his heart, he was truly overwhelmed, he truly did not understand what the other was doing. Both man stared at each other where they were still standing in the middle of the corridor, surrounded by plants and pieces of art, panting like animals after a fight. “All you do is... messing with people, manipulating their minds.” Giacomom was practically spitting his words, his anger so prominent because it stood in place for his immense hurt and confusion. “Giacomo, please...” “No, I do not want to hear it!”

He knew that he was losing his closest friend right there in that moment and he also knew that he should have known that it had been inevitable for him to eventually do so. Philippe merely stood there and let it all wash over him like wave, his arms hanging motionless at his sides and his face, except for the pale red mark on his cheek, a stark white. He showed no intent to contribute further to the conversation so it was up for Giacomo to end this... conversation.

“Stay away from me or you will regret it, I promise you that,” he said, his emotions still in charge of his tongue, “you have brought enough troubles over me already.” With that he turned back around and strode off, roughly and rather angrily wiping at the wetness on his face.

For him to believe that this could be one of the best birthdays he ever had - you really should not judge the day before it was over. A sob escaped from between his tightly pressed together lips and he stopped, once he was out of the sight of his now former friend to lean against the wall with his hand clamped over his mouth to prevent himself from making any further sound. Philippe had blinked hard as he had been unable to do nothing but watch Giacomo go, he longed for nothing more than to walk after him, drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. He had known that he should have kept his mouth shut and yet he had confessed his feelings to him again. He could have slapped himself, making his unmarked cheek fit the other. _“All you do is... messing with people, manipulating their minds.”_ Swallowing hard Philippe turned on his heels to reluctantly make his way back to the salon, hoping that the mark on his cheek was not as visible as it felt like.

It burned and stung and yet it did not come close to the ache of his shattered heart. The prospect of having to put on an act for Henry did not make it any easier.

Giacomo had continued en route to the gardens after it had taken him a few minutes to steady himself enough to stop crying, for then at least. He suddenly was absolutely exhausted, he wanted to do nothing more than to finde a lone corner and hide away from any prying eyes that could possibly be on him. _Oh Philippe..._ the mere thought of him and what he had lost with him made another swell of tears shoot into his eyes, he unsuccessfully tried to blink them away. _Not yet, not yet, not yet_ the mantra repeated in his head over and over again and he tried to focus on that instead as he hasted down the grande escalier taking two steps at a time. “Monsieur Casano-” Giacomo did not even notice Wilhelm who was taking the stairs up and had adressed him, being burried in his personal grief and mantra as he was.

Finding a place in the gardens was, as it turned out, not easy. Since it was a surprisingly warm and pleasant day for the month of April many were out and about, sauntering and enjoying their time with a happiness that Giacomo found to be incredibly mocking in that moment. It took Giacomo some time to find a hiding spot that was unoccupied but he did eventually find a bench in the far back of the gardens that stood enclosed by hedges on three sides and was as good of a place that he could expect to find. He carefully put the dog down on the ground before he practically broke down onto the bench, his face burried in the palms of his hands as the shake of his shoulders and the muffled sobs were the only proofs of his breakdown.

The hours seemed to drag on almost ridiculously for Friedrich, or so the king of Prussia felt as he worked off paeg after page and moved his pen over them with a skilled swiftness. He mournfully had not been able to do no work that day even if he would have preferred to spend the hours at the side of the man he loved. Sighing, he put the pen down as his mind found its way back to Giacomo like it did so often. It would be a bit ridiculous if it would not be in regard to Giacomo, but Friedrich could not wait until he could kiss him again, until he could feel the younger man‘s warm hand in his... He was very well aware that those were longings of a love struck youth rather than a grown man but he could not help it. Giacomo really was his happiness, the healing power in his life. Friedrich smiled at the warm feeling in his chest but was pulled from his thought by someone knocking on his door twice in quick succession. “Enter.”

“I apologize if I happen to disturb you, Sire.” “Do not worry, Wilhelm,” Friedrich leaned back into his chair, offering a smile to his valet who, after closing the door behind him, moved until he was standing in front of the king of Prussia. Wilhelm bowed slightly before he spoke again, “I was on my way to find His Highness, young Henry, when I passed Monsieur Casanova, Sire.” Friedrich was still smiling and raised a playful eyebrow, “Well, I am sure that my Giacomo is not the reason you came here.”

“He actually is, Sire. I passed him at the grande escalier and he seemed to be... composureless.” The king sat up a bit straighter, “Excuse me?” “Yes, Sire. He must had been crying mere moments prior to me crossing paths with him.” Friedrich was on his feet in a second, somewhat hastedly shuffling the pieces of paper together and putting a letterweight onto them to secure them. “Have you seen where he went? Did he tell you anything?” “No, Sire, he did not speak to me and neither do I know where he went to.” “Thank you for notifying me, Wilhelm,” Friedrich nodded sharply, “you may leave.” He strode out of the room and was gone before his valet had the chance to obey his words.

Friedrich cursed under his breath as he first searched his, or rather their rooms, then the privat library and found both to be empty. There was no sight of Giacomo and if there was something that had upset his lover so greatly that it made him break into tears in public Friedrich needed to know about it and where the younger man was. He knew that his Giacomo had a habit of hiding away if his emotions overwhelmed him but he had no luck in finding him at either of usual hiding spots, the guest room, that now only stored the suitcases Friedrich hoped would never be put to use again, and the stables.

Somewhat frustrated after being told by the stable boy that he had most definitely not seen Monsieur Casanova around, Friedrich made his way back to his palace.

He was suddenly stopped in his tracks by a nobleman whose name he did not remember. “I hope that I am not being impertinent, Your Majesty, but I was wondering if you happen to be searching for Monsieur Casanova.” One of Friedrich‘s eyebrows cocked on its own accord, “Indeed I am. How do you know?” “Ah yes yes, of course - how stupid of me, I should have told you right away Your Majesty. I was told that he and, what is his name again, ah yes, Monsieur de Lorraine were heard shouting at each other in the hallway of the upper floor, Your Majesty. I was told of it shortly after I saw Monsieur Casanova dashing right past me and towards the gardens.” Friedrich had struggled to follow the nobleman‘s fast and out-of-breath way of saying what he knew but he managed just well enough, and he straightened his posture as the other man tried to regulate his breathing after ending his speech. “The gardens you say?” “Yes, Your Majesty. He was carrying a dog, too.”

“Thank you for you telling me, Sire, it will be a great help for me.” The nobleman bowed deeply, “Your Majest.”, and Friedrich set into motion again, walking with a quick but regulated pace and his hands held loosely held behind his back. Giacomo argueing with the French was one thing, but him doing it so loudly that it was probably making its round around court was highly unusal. He knew that one always had to doubt the words of nobles, but it it happened to be true Friedrich would understand why his lover had been crying. While he did not like the way Giacomo and the frenchman were close, he knew that de Lorraine was important to his lover and so he would never dare to show his dislike of him too open. It would only cause sorrow for the man he loved.

At least Friedrich knew where he had to search then, but his gardens were spacious and contained many hidden corners. He was in no mood for some weird game of hide and seek but his urge to comfort Gaicomo was stornger, so he checked the popular whereabouts before he continued his search in circles. Cursing himself for insisting on having them build as vast as they were after checking what he believed to be the hundreth bench and finding it unoccupied, Friedrich stopped for a moment to allow his legs to recover. He surely must had been walking around like this for over an hour, as far as he could tell from the position of the lowly standing sun, and he sighed before he walked on. He actually considered assembling a search team, but discarded that thought almost as soon as it came up.

It must have been no more than ten minutes before Friedrich suddenly stumbled over something in his path that he had not seen, “What on earth -” The yapping that followed could not be taken wrong even if he had wanted to do so. Having taken the man almost stepping on him as a sign for play, the small brown and white dog play bowed and barked in that shrill tone that was so different from his Windhounds. “My, what are you doing here,” Friedrich asked, unnecessarily and rather to himself as he swiftly bend down to pick it up. He tried to force his heart to stop racing from the dread of a nearing doom, trying not to let fear rise in his veins. But Friedrich knew that the younger man would not simply let the dog out of his eyes, worried as he had been about it getting lost. “Giacomo?” Looking around, unsure of which way to go he stood in the middle of the path waiting for what he did not known. A sign, preferably.

“Friedrich?” He exhaled shakingly and looked around again, brows narrowing in confusion when Friedrich could not see the other. “I have found him if you are looking for him, Liebling. Where are you?” “Here,” came the rasped reply from behind him and Friedrich turned again to see Giacomo appearing from behind a tall hedge, unable to hide the gasp when he took him in. “Oh my Sanssouci, what happened?” It did not matter to Friedrich that he already, presumably at least, knew the answer to his question as it would not be wise to simply throw it at the younger man. Giacomo‘s eyes were sllightly swollen and red-rimmed from crying and while the color on his cheeks and the tip of his nose could have been adorable, it most certainly was not so given the state he was in. He seemed as if he had truly and utterly lost his ground and Giacomo cleared his throat and sniffled as he walked over to Friedrich to take the dog from the older man‘s arms. “Nothing happened Friedrich I,” he paused to swallowed so audible that the other could hear it, “had a simple arguement, that is all.”

Friedrich stopped himself from sighing and gently took his younger lover‘s face into his hands, the skin on his cheeks still damp and sticky from the tears as Friedrich‘s thumbs caressed it. “You were hiding away and crying out here for how long I do not know, Liebling, so do not tell me that there is nothing that happened and made you so upset. What happened, my Sanssouci?”

His softly spoken words was all it took for Giacomo to burst into tears again and Friedrich tsked in sympathy as he guided the younger man‘s head down until he could hide his face in the crook of his neck. Friedrich did not care that the tears seeped through the fabric of his collar, of course he did not. He rested one light hand in the nape of Giacomo‘s head to caress the soft hair there as he ran the other soothingly up and down his trembling back in an attempt to calm him down. If there was anything good about Giacomo having retreated to his part of Friedrich‘s grounds it was that they were completely undistrubed in this scene of intimacy. “Do you not want to tell me what happened, Liebling?

A shudder went through Giacomo as he was shook by another sob, his fingers playing absentmindly with the fabric of Friedrich‘s coat where they were holding onto its back. “I cannot tell you I - I cannot I am sorry,” he whispered, and Friedrich turned his head so he could press a kiss into Giacomo‘s hair. “You were heard in your arguement, you and de Lorraine, Liebling. Why are you trying to hide it from me?”

The younger man shot back into a straight position and with, to Friedrich‘s confusion, panic clearly written on his face started to babble something along the lines of “I did not know he was going to kiss me Friedrich I swear I had no idea I promise that I did not want it -” “He did _what_ ,” the older man asked slowly, cupping Giacomo‘s face again to stop him from running further into the arms of panic but the younger continued to stumble over his words, which, combined with his crying, made it impossible for Friedrich to understand him in the slightest. “Shhh, Giacomo, Liebling, shhh, calm yourself,” he spoke with a low voice and kept his hold on Giacomo‘s face as a steady presence, searching to meet his eyes. “I am not mad at you in any way, mein Liebling, just calm yourself and tell me what happened.”

Giacomo obeyed, breathed in and out deeply before he told him again, much slower this time, with a voice still on edge and interrupted by sobs but he told him nonetheless and Friedrich had to give it his all to not storm off and find that French bastard right then. He had suspected it, yes, but not for it to go to such an extent. “He loves you,” he repeated flatly. “That intrusive bastard is in love with you.” “I should have told you earlier but Friedrich, please do not act against him. It must be so hard for him too -”

Friedrich snorted humorlessly and let go off Giacomo‘s face to turn around for a moment, fists clenching at his sides, “So it is hard for him too? How am I supposed to feel about this,” he said, making sure not to snap as he moved close to the younger again. “How many times did he kiss you.” “Just once, Friedrich -” He kissed Giacomo, hard and dominating, hands burried in his blond hair as he deepened the kiss the second Gaicomo complied with it. Friedrich dragged it out, feeling as if he had to replace the frenchman‘s touches with his. “You are mine, Liebling, and only mine,” he growled, mindfull not to step too close to Giacomo as there still was the dog between them and the younger man whimpered as his words, his free hand clutching at one of Friedrich‘s arms.

“I love you, my Sanssouci, do not forget it.” “I love you too, Friedrich. There can be no other than you.” “I hope so, Liebling.” “I promise.” Friedrich smiled and wiped a stray tear away from Giacomo‘s face, leaning forward to kiss his forehead, “I do know that, of course. I would never doubt the truth behind your words.” “Kiss me again, please,” Giacomo whispered and he had not ask a second time before the older man kissed him again. The image of the frenchman daring to come upon his Giacomo made the blood in Friedrich veins boil, there was no way on earth that he would and could let this rest on him. For the sake of both his and his lover‘s pride. “We should be going, Liebling, or there will not be enough time for us to prepare adquately for the ball.”

Giacomo swallowed and nodded, hoisting the dog a bit higher onto his arm as he stroke its fur, “I have forgotten about it if I am honest.” “You can let him walk on his own, Liebling, it must not be comfortable to carry him the whole time.” His comment made the younger man chuckle and Friedrich‘s heart lighter. “They are bred for the exact purpose of being carried around, they are lap dogs, Friedrich,” Giacomo said but still sat the dog down, watching as it walked with small and bouncy steps. “If he should run you will be the one to catch him.” Friedrich laughed, “If my old bones allow me to do so, then yes.” He took one of the younger man‘s hands into his and together they made their way back in comfortable silence that was only interrupted by the younger man sniffles.

Friedrich suddenly remembering something as the palace came back into sight, and he stopped as he spoke, “I can cancel the ball if you wish it, Liebling. It is not my intent to force it upon you.” He squeezed the other‘s hand to prove the truth of his words. “No, Friedrich, no I... I am looking forward to it, actually.” “It was merely an offer, my love. I wish for your birthday to have a happy finale. You deserve it, Liebling.”

He was a bit surprised when he was suddenly hugged by Giacomo. “I love you so much.” Friedrich smiled and closed his arms around the other, too, “And I love you, my Sanssouci,” he whispered, resting his cheek against Giacomo‘s head and smiling when he realized that this was what he had wanted, though definitely not with the background of his lover being constantly close to tears. But them holding each other in the middle of his garden for everyone to see, openly showing what they had - it was what Friedrich had longed to have for such a long time, and he tried not to think of how he almost never got to have it after all. The memories of Katte, him being drugged, the younger man falling ill... all of which that had tried to end them them and, thankfully, failed.

Giacomo was not his possession, no, but he was the most valuable thing in the life of the king of Prussia. He would make sure that the frenchman would pay for what he had dared to do to Giacomo, _his_ Giacomo. Friedrich only needed to come up with a plan, and if it would mean the start of another war he would still do it without either hesitation or doubt.

 ~

“The ball has barely started and you are already drinking for the two of us!”

Philippe drowned the remaining of his drink before he looked at the younger man that had just hissed those words at him, and shrugged, “So?” Henry clenched his jaw as he stared straight ahead as if he could not bear to look at him. “I do not know what happened between you and him today and I would not care for it if it had not changed you so, Philippe.” The frenchman snorted and turned around to take yet another glass of sparkling wine off the table behind him, mourning the fact that the guests would not be provided with anything stronger.

“You are embarassing me and my name.” Go then, I will not force you to stay in my company if I am so big of an embarassment to you.” He could easily see how the younger man was burning to reciprocate something but his lips stayed sealed together as he shook his head, looked at Philippe in what the French believed to be disgust and walked off and away from him.

He knew that he was being not fair to his young lover but Philippe could not get himself to care about it. How should he, considering that there were so many bigger things that occupied his mind, starting from the blond man that was currently sharing a dance with the king of Prussia to the way his heart was sending out waves of pain through his whole body when Giacomo‘s eyes barely grazed his own for just the split of a second. Being in this situation was just what Philippe had feared would happen, that he would have to stand by and could do nothing but watch as the man he loved enjoyed himself without a worry.

The king and his lover had since finished their dance and the other guests broke out into an applause when Friedrich enclosed Giacomo in his arms and kissed him, slowly and sensual. It was easy for anyone to see how both of them were smiling through it and Philippe had to turn around as the mere sight of it threatened to clasp his airway shut. He could no longer watch. “I would like to propose a toast.” The general chatters and conversations stopped and the piece of music that was played was much slower. Friedrich kissed one of Giacomo‘s cheeks and caressed the other before he walked a bit further into the free space that had been formed by the guests of the ball, raising his glass and looking around. If his smirk grew once his gaze had spotted the frenchman no one noticed.

“I dedicate this toast to Monsieur Casanova, whose birthday happened to be the reason why we came together here in the first place. What a coincidence, really.” Laughter arose at the king‘s play of words and Friedrich fought to keep the smirk down, instead smiling widely as he looked over his shoulder at Giacomo. The younger man shook his head, though playfully, and the blush on his cheeks grew a tad bit darker when he was being winked at. “To the wonderful Giacomo Casanova, whom I cherish more than any other in my life. May this new year of his life be one of health and happiness.” Glasses were clinked and several smaller toasts were called out to the glory of the Prussian king.

“Was that really necessary, Friedrich?”, Giacomo asked once Friedrich was back at his side. “”Of course it was, my love, especially since I know just how much you love being the center of unshared attention,” the older man teased and he put his arm around Giacomo‘s waist with the habitual easiness he had aquired in their time together as if his hand had been made to rest in the small dip over the blond‘s hip bone

He waited a few more minutes until he was sure that his lover was perfectly occupied by watching the crowd before Friedrich turned his head to give a barely-there nod to his valet who nodded back in the same manner and gave a hand signal to the two guards that had been placed in the door to prevent any unwanted courtiers to join the festivities. The guards began to cross the room with fast strodes almost instantly, earning yelps and shrieks from the utterly confused bystanders. Each took hold of one of Phillipe‘s arms, who had not seen them coming as he had been standing facing the wall still, and hoisted him around. One of the guards, the bigger one, then rougly and rather painfully grabbed his face by the chin to force his gaze upwards and at Friedrich.

The frenchman could merely gasp in an reaction to it and he looked away from the king at Giacomo who was standing a few meters behind him, pale and seeming to be just as surprised as Philippe was. “Philippe de Lorraine, you will be placed under arrest for charges of both conspiration and criminal manipulation.”

“Friedrich!” Giacomo cried out and held a shaking hand over his mouth at the same time at Henry forcing his way through to the front with tears in his eyes and shouting a “No!”. Philippe‘s heart had sunken once the king had spoken it out, he was very well aware in what sentence those charged could or would result in and even though he knew that there were no evidence against him, he also knew that Friedrich would make sure that he would pay the ultimate price. He lowered his head, both to ensure that neither one of the men he loved would have to look at his tears and to protect himself from the eyes of the others. “Take him away.” The guards obeyed and nodded, Philippe did not provide any struggle as he was led away. He could feel that he was treated much rougher than he would have been otherwise.

When Friedrich turned around to face him again, Giacomo‘s eyes this time had tears in them rather than the shimmer of happiness and thankfulness that the king had expected to be greeted with. For each step that he took towards his lover the other took a step back and away from him and when reached out to take his hand, Giacomo pulled his away with an incredible speed. “Liebling -” “I cannot believe you, I... no.” The younger man shook his head in disbelieve and, before Friedrich was given the chance to explain himself, the blond turned away to hurry after the guards. Friedrich just barely managed to catch him by the arm, “Giacomo, _stay_.”

The older man‘s hold on his arm was stronger than Giacomo had expected it to be and it took him some honest struggle to free himself from it. “Philippe is my friend and I told you I... I cannot believe it, you betrayed my trust.” “He betrayed you as much as he did betray me, do you not understand,” Friedrich snarled and the only answer that followed from Giacomo was a shake of his head. He could not believe it, really could not. This was as unlike Friedrich as he could have imagined it, arresting his friend under false charges as a personal revenge. Oh, the irony of it. “Do you not understand, or see, that you are walking the exact same path that you condamn your father for taking? I cannot believe you, you betrayed me, too. Do not act as if it is any different.”

Giacomo ran off, leaving Friedrich to stand alone in the room that was filled with gasps, murmurs and agitated whispers. The king of Prussia clenched his fists at his side, he had not even needed to consider his lover‘s words to know that they were true. But he had felt so betrayed... He also knew that Henry must hate him just as much as he hated his father, and he turned around only to find his nephew gone, too.

“Philippe!” “Philippe!” Philippe had failed to keep his tears at bay once Henry, and Giacomo, had stared to call out for him on their short journey out of the ball room and down the stairs that would take them to the ground floors before they would reach the cell. The young Prussian‘s face was, in stark contrast to the Italians, a dark red as he yelled at the guards to unhand the French. “We apologize, Your Highness, but it is done by the command of the king.” “Fuck the king, I will kill him and you if you will not remove your hands right now -” The guards stopped to look at the young man with stone-like eyes and Giacomo quickly put a hand to his chest, holding him back. “Stop, I do not want that anything happens to you, too.”

Henry blinked and shifted his eyes to Giacomo, now that the boy was crying he looked even younger. _My god_ , Giacomo thought, Friedrich, _what have you done_. Friedrich had never planned for Sanssouci to be a seat of power, so the palace had not been build with more than one cell and the French was roughly pushed into one. “I must ask you to leave, you are not allowed to be in here Sire -” “Shut your mouth and get me the king,” Giacomo cut him off, already dropping to his knees to be able to be at eye level with Philippe.

“Giacomo, I am so sorry for how I treated you. Would you forgive me, _mignonette_?” The Italian smiled through his tears, trying to be strong for the both of them, “I did not behave any better, did I? I overreacted I - should not have spoken to you that way and I am sorry for telling Friedrich. It is my way you are in here.” “You are forgiving me?” “Of course I am.” “I will kill him,” Henry said flatly and out of the sudden, and from what Giacomo could judge he was utterly honest, “I will kill him.” “Be quiet, stupid boy, or you will be in my place, too.” Philippe‘s voice was less sharp than he had wanted it to be and he allowed his eyelids to flutter close when his lover let out a deep sob of “But you did not do anything wrong.” Giacomo knew that it was Friedrich, he could tell by the way of walking, and he raised to his feet to face him.

Friedrich did not know what to say for the first moment he saw his lover and Henry looking at him with the purest from of disgust. “Let me explain, I -” “You are pathetic!” The younger Prussian cut him off, pointing a finger at him, “Everyone knows that what you are doing is under false pretenses!” Friedrich fought to keep his shoulders from slumping and he threw a key ring at his nephew who was easily able to catch it. Henry looked at it before he looked back at his uncle and when he realized just what it was for, he hurried to find the fitting key for the cell.

“ _Mon beau_ , come here.” “Philippe,” the younger broke into tears yet again and wrapped his arms around the French once the door of the cell had been opened, holding onto him as if his life depended on it and Philippe cried, though more silently, as he held his lover close. The fear he had of never being able to do so again washed over him like a wave.

Friedrich was watching Giacomo rather than them, he felt like the worst person in his line of blood. He had not been thinking with anything but his hurt pride when he had told Wilhelm to instruct the guards, to come up with evidence where usually nothing could be found. But he would understand if neither his lover nor his nephew would ever want to speak to him again, he had betrayed both of them. “I am sorry, Giacomo. I do not know what I had been thinking.” “I would guess that you did not think at all,” Giacomo answered with a snarl and other than Friedrich he was watching Philippe and Henry, probably so that he was not forced to look at Friedrich.

“You are right, I was not. If you...,” the king swallowed, suddenly having to fight against his own tears, “if you wish to sleep somewhere else tonight it can be arranged.”

“You are an idiot, Friedrich.”

“I know, Giacomo, trust me. I know that I am.”


End file.
